


Believe

by humapuma



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Canon Divergence - Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Canon Divergence - Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Goat Herder Bucky Barnes, Goats, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Nightmares, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pregnant Goat, Protective Steve Rogers, Recovered Memories, Recovery, Steve Rogers Feels, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-03-26 16:44:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19009759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/humapuma/pseuds/humapuma
Summary: The first time he remembers hearing his own thoughts was as he was beating Captain America to death. That was his plan.His mission. Kill Captain America. But as he punched him, slamming Steve Rogers’ head into the metal beneath it, there was a voice in his head.Stop! God, please stop! Please don’t kill him. Please, God, don’t let me kill him.He takes a deep breath, remembering the horror that he felt in that moment.I’m killing him, he remembers thinking.This is the man I gave my life to protect and I’m killing him.





	1. Part 1 - Believe In Me

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by the song "Believe" by Staind. This came about this afternoon and I really like it, so I hope you all enjoy it too!

Bright lights, voices, someone grabbing him – _Hydra_. But no, this voice is saying a different name – “Bucky!”

“I thought you were dead,” he says, touching the Asset’s face.

The Asset thought he was smaller.

The same man, but in such a different time – he knows the Asset, calls it a name – the Asset has no name.

“Bucky?”

Who the hell is Bucky?

 

* * *

 

 

He wakes up, jumps off of the mattress and puts his back to the corner. No one is there. _A nightmare_. Just another nightmare. He rubs his flesh hand over his face, trying to scrape the remnants of the memory away.

It’s odd, he knows, to want to forget memories after fighting to regain them.

He’s been so many people. He’s been a child, a friend, a protector, a soldier, a weapon and now? What is he?

 _A ghost_. _A shadow_.

No one will find him – no one will use him. He can’t be the man he once was – he can hardly be a man now.

 _Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock_.

He crawls to his backpack and unzips the big pocket. Inside are seven notebooks and more sit around the apartment. Within each are… memories? Dreams? _Are any of them real_? He opens one to a blank page and finds a pen.

_Steve found me on a table._

No. He scratches it out and starts again.

_~~Steve found me on a table~~. Captain America found Bucky on a table. I’m Bucky (?) Captain America ~~is~~ was my friend? Captain America is Steve Rogers. I am Bucky Barnes._

“Your name is James Buchanan Barnes,” he says aloud.

_Steve wouldn’t kill me. Steve let me ~~kill~~ hurt him._

_Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock_.

The first time he remembers hearing his own thoughts was as he was beating Captain America to death. That was his plan. His _mission_. Kill Captain America. But as he punched him, slamming Steve Rogers’ head into the metal beneath it, there was a voice in his head.

 _Stop! God, please stop! Please don’t kill him. Please, God, don’t let me kill him_.

He takes a deep breath, remembering the horror that he felt in that moment. _I’m killing him_ , he remembers thinking. _This is the man I gave my life to protect and I’m killing him_.

He likes to imagine that, one day, he’ll find Steve and talk to him. Maybe, they’d get to know each other again. Bucky remembers everything now – all of the pain and death and torture. For better or worse, he remembers it all.

He remembers Steve – skinny, sickly, but full of fire and justice. He remembers finding Steve in alleys and abandoned parking lots, getting the shit kicked out of him. He remembers being so angry that someone would hurt Steve, that someone would lay hands on him.

He also remembers Dallas, Texas on November 22nd, 1963.

He remembers Paris in 1956.

He remembers a road at night in Berlin.

He remembers a bomb in the London underground.

He remembers March 12th, 1973, and a dead man in a pool.

He remembers murdering his friend, Howard, and his wife, Maria.

He remembers all of them now. He can’t close his eyes and not see the people whose lives he cut short. Even after he escaped the Triskellion and saved Captain America/Steve Rogers, he murdered a man for his clothes and money.

But no more since then. _I don’t do that anymore_ , he thinks, turning the page in his journal. He has a color copy of a picture taken of Captain America. He tried to take some photos himself but was too afraid that he’d be seen. He spent roughly six days in D.C. after he escaped and, during that time, he watched Steve constantly. In the hospital, back at his apartment, meeting with Nicholas J. Fury, meeting with the Black Widow and the Falcon.

He watched until Steve said he’d find Bucky. After that, he ran. He stole money from people but didn’t kill them; he stole a motorcycle; he broke into vacant homes to sleep. Finally, after several weeks, he was able to find passage out of the United States. He started in Spain but kept moving until he’d arrived here in Romania.

It’s only a matter of time before Steve catches wind of him being here but he still has some time. He’s gotten more careful but there’s really only so much he can do to change his appearance. Whatever Zola and Hydra did to him keeps him from losing muscle mass and won’t allow him to fatten up.

He can’t allow sharp things near his face, even when it’s his own hands there. The sound of scissors makes him flinch. So, his hair stays long. He can’t use razors on his skin, so his beard grows.

He wears a glove to conceal the metal arm but people stare at him anyway because he wears a jacket no matter the temperature.

 _Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock_.

He tries to collect his thoughts but they always return to him. Captain America. Steve Rogers.

_Inseparable both on playground and battlefield._

Sometimes Bucky remembers what he’s sure are fantasies he used to have. Images of Steve in the throes of passion and pleasure. He used to spend a lot of his time thinking about how Steve’s skin might feel but he had no actual recollection of touching him. So, he’s sure that he’s had feelings for Steve for his entire life.

Bucky wipes tears from his face but lets himself cry. It’s been decades since he was _allowed_ to feel and he won’t let it go ever again. This pain is worth it, knowing he won’t hurt anyone anymore.

Sometimes he thinks of ways to die. That he could shoot himself but would it work? Bullets do hurt but would he actually die? In the time that it might take for him to finally bleed to death, would Hydra find him again?

No, it’s better to keep running. As long as he’s running, he knows they can’t use him again. But he knows they’re looking. He’ll never be safe again, never be free.

There’s another reason he won’t kill himself – one he tries to deny. But, deep down, he hopes he’ll see Steve again. The idea terrifies him as much as it thrills him but Steve won’t let him go. If they’re reunited, Steve will not let him keep running.

Steve will try to protect him; he’ll bring Bucky in ‘for his own safety’ and Bucky will become a pawn again.

 _It’s best to keep running_.

He shuts the journal and packs it away, then goes around the apartment to grab the rest. He shoves each of them into the backpack and zips it up. He rinses his face and brushes his teeth, then pulls on his clothes to leave.

This apartment is just one in a long line of places he’s hidden in and it won’t be the last. He makes sure to wipe everything down and uses ammonia to destroy all traces of his presence here. It hurts his nose but it’s necessary.

He pulls the leather glove on, then the hat. Once on the street, he checks each direction before choosing one at random and walking. It isn’t long before he recognizes that someone is following him and he sees a public bus about to pull away from the curb. At the last second, he runs and jumps through the closing doors as it pulls away. He turns and sees –

“Steve,” he breathes and the man himself is there, wearing civilian clothes and a hat, staring wide-eyed at Bucky like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. Bucky imagines he looks the same as the bus creates greater and greater distance between them.

He turns away and pays the fee quickly, then takes a seat. But at the next stop, he hurries off and into an alley, knowing the Steve probably has the information on the bus routes and will likely come looking.

He steals a car and leaves the city without issue. He knows Steve won’t stop now that he’s seen Bucky and, honestly, Bucky remembers the drive to seek Steve out, to protect him. Those same feelings are pushing Steve now, but things are not as they were – and they never will be again.

That night in the next city, he leaves the car in a parking lot without cameras and continues on foot. He finds a vacant house that should be condemned, and he breaks in. He’ll sleep for a couple of hours, then get moving again. He can’t risk being here for too long.

He sits with his back to the corner, eying the three entry points – front door and two large windows. Taking out a journal, he opens it to Captain America’s picture. He wishes he had one of Steve’s face. He wishes he could feel Steve and know he’s real – that Bucky’s real.

He wakes to loud sounds and voices; he leaps to his feet and runs out the door as fast as he can. It’s only when he’s several blocks away that he realizes he left the journal with Steve’s picture in it.

He can’t go back.

It’s an odd feeling, the desperation to do just that – to run and grab it, to see that picture. But he turns and runs away.

Again, he steals a car and again he leaves that city. He steals money and buys food, enough to last a few days, even for him. He keeps this car for a few more days, making his way out of Romania and into Moldova. He knows there are abandoned Hydra bunkers here that even the SHIELD leak won’t reveal. If they are listed in those files, it would take months to determine their locations – months Steve Rogers will not wait.

He leaves the car and makes his way on foot. Not all of Hydra’s bases look like Strucker’s castle in Sokovia. He finds the side entrance of an apartment building and locates a hidden door mechanism which allows him to get into the basement. The door is locked, of course, but he knows the keypad code and is able to get inside and reset the system alarm.

He’s surprised to find that it still works.

In the main area, he finds MREs and bottles of water that can last him some time but he knows he can’t stay here long. Two or three days, maybe. Once Steve knows Bucky’s made his way into Moldovia, he’ll ask the Widow about Hydra bases here and this place – as well as all of the other bases – will be useless to him.

He looks through the entire basement and finds a locked gate, like a prison cell. He knows that it leads to where they kept the chair. The gate locks on this side so, if they needed to, they could lock him in. He pulls on the bars once, then turns back. He eats five MREs and drinks three bottles of water, then finds a cot to sleep on.

He wakes up and stretches, checking the time on his watch. “Shit,” he mutters. He slept for fifteen hours.

Rushing, now, he packs up some of the MREs and water bottles and is about to make his way to the door when the power goes out. The emergency lights come on – red and ominous – and he runs to the locked cell door. Using his left arm, he rips it open and slams it closed. It won’t relock, so he rips a steel pipe off of the wall and begins to bend it around the gate. It’s loud and he knows he has only seconds to get away and maybe he won’t find a way out but he has to try.

“Buck!” A voice shouts but he strains to twist the bar, feeling the tears streaming down his face. “Bucky, stop!”

He looks up and Steve is there – he’s got his suit on, the dark blue one Hydra had given him for stealth operations. He pulls the mask off again and holds both hands out. The shield is on his back; he’s unarmed.

Bucky clenches his jaw and gets the bar twisted enough that it will take Steve several minutes to dismantle, even with his shield. “Buck, please!” He begs.

“Stop following me,” Bucky growls, turning to run.

“Wait!” He shouts and Bucky hesitates. “I found your journal.”

Bucky turns and sees it – small, brown, and full of torture and pain. But Steve’s in there too and he _wants it back_. “Give it to me,” he says, eyes blinking the tears away. “Toss it here.”

“No,” Steve says, “I can’t do that. But if you come with me, I’ll return it to you.”

Bucky glares at Steve but, really, he’s memorizing everything he can. If he can’t have the photo anymore, then he needs this moment. The red glare makes Steve look fearsome and violent, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.

“Goodbye, Steve,” he calls and runs.

He runs hard and fast, hearing Steve hitting the steel pipe with his shield. It’ll give way any moment but Bucky’s found the door already. He rips it open, rushing out into the bright light of day. There are civilians around but not that many – not enough to disappear in a crowd. He runs to the right and, once he reaches the end of the block, he turns left. He hears the mechanical whirr of the Falcon’s drone following him. When he rushes by a parked car, he rips the side mirror off and throws it, hitting the machine and sending it crashing to the ground.

He turns at the next street and runs faster and faster until he sees the marketplace. He yanks the hat off and his coat, slipping behind a man at a café and grabbing his denim jacket. A woman selling hats charges him too much for a beanie. He tucks his hair into it and steals a pair of sunglasses from a busy display – wasting precious minutes – and then he allows himself to slow down.

He remains in the crowd, though, and keeps his eyes open. It isn’t long before the Falcon appears – though he’s wearing civilian clothes. He’s unused to espionage, though, and talks to Steve too openly through his communicator. Bucky waits until he walks past him before he walks in the opposite direction, retracing his steps. Steve will try to come around to meet Falcon in the middle, forcing Bucky toward the other.

Within the hour, Bucky has another car and is leaving the city. They’ll know of all of the Hydra bases by now, leaving him fewer and fewer options. After two days of driving non-stop, Bucky enters Ukraine. He leaves the car and sleeps under a bridge.

The further east he moves, the more dangerous it becomes for him. He is not concerned for his safety so much as he knows there are still active Hydra bases in the region. If they find him, they’ll use the trigger words and Bucky will be lost again.

He pays for a hotel – a stupid luxury, he knows, but a necessary one. He showers and, with shaking hands, cuts his hair off and uses a razor and shaves his face, leaving cuts and sore red bumps that heal in minutes.

He looks like the ghost of a man who died in a ravine in 1943.

Steve will find him and recognize him like this but he won’t be looking for a short-haired, clean-shaven man.

He sleeps for three hours; before he goes, he incapacitates the man at the desk and destroys the camera equipment, including the tapes.

Another car, another week of travel, and Bucky enters Russia. He finds another Hydra base and breaks in – though, this time, he takes care to bar the door and checks the entire facility for other entry points. He reengages the security system, too. He finds more MREs and bottles of water, then sleeps for eighteen hours.

He’s not sure why but he feels safer here. He forces himself to find the chair – again, it’s locked behind a cell door. He drinks a bottle of water and stares at it, remembering his own screams, the burning agony, and the blankness of his own mind afterward.

He remembers how they forced him into it the first time, how he killed three men trying to subdue him. He remembers how they laughed at him, sometimes, as they slammed his head into the clamps. He remembers how they told him Steve was dead and then laughed; how they cut him open to watch his body heal itself; how they made him watch as they killed people in horrible ways.

He screams – an animal sound, feral and unlike anything he’s ever heard. He grabs the chair with his left arm and pulls it out of the sockets that seal it to the floor. He rips it apart, smashing its pieces into the machines around it that were used to take him away from himself. It’s only when it’s over and it’s all gone that he realizes the red security lights have come on.

He turns, panting, to find Steve there with wide eyes. He looks at Bucky like he did on the bridge before he knew that his friend was still alive. He looks at Bucky like he’s a monster – not someone to be helped, or saved, but to be _stopped_.

Bucky’s tired of running.

He picks up a jagged piece of the chair and lifts it like a weapon. Steve holds his shield up, ready to defend himself, but Bucky can’t move.

 _Stop! God, please stop! Please don’t kill him. Please, God, don’t let me kill him_.

 _I’m killing him._ _This is the man I gave my life to protect and I’m killing him_.

He drops it, falls to his knees, and begins to weep. “Just kill me,” he begs Steve. “Just kill me and stop me. I’m not worth all this. I’m not – I’m not, Steve, just kill me.” He sobs and begs, over and over.

Steve kneels in front of him, shield far behind him, and he reaches shaking hands out. “I can’t do that, Buck,” he whispers, wrapping Bucky in his arms and pinning him to his chest. “I won’t ever do that.”

Bucky doesn’t fight Steve, doesn’t push him away. It’s been so long since he’d felt any real human kindness. He revels in the comfort of being held, being allowed to feel his pain.

“They’ll get me again,” he tells Steve. “They’ll make me hurt people.”

“No one will ever touch you again,” Steve promises, pulling Bucky tighter against him. Bucky almost smiles because the sentiment is nice, though even Bucky knows that Steve can’t protect him from the whole world. “Come with me, please,” Steve whispers against the side of Bucky’s head.

Bucky almost laughs because they both know Steve won’t be letting him run away again. “I’ll die either way, Steve,” he says. “You kill me now, I’ll kill myself later, or they’ll find me and burn my memories out of me again.” He pauses for a moment, listening to the change in Steve’s breathing. “That’s worse than death, Steve.”

In the next moment, though, he feels Steve begin to shake with sobs of his own. An instinct he thought was long burned out of him drove him to wrap Steve in his arms, tucking his head against Bucky’s neck.

“Don’t leave me again,” Steve whispered. “Don’t go.”

Bucky can feel the desperation in Steve’s voice, in his body, and he remembers how badly he’d wanted to stay with Steve 70 years ago. He tries to imagine how different their lives would have gone but can’t. “Okay,” he says. “I won’t.”

“I’ll kill them,” Steve growls. “I’ll kill anyone who tries to take you from me.”

Bucky believes him. “Well, you’d better get me somewhere no one can find me.”

Steve’s quiet for a moment before he says, “I know where.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/humapuma) or on [twitter](https://twitter.com/humapuma817)! I love talking about Stucky, fanfics, and just getting to know people.


	2. Part 2 - I Know You've Waited for So Long

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Here is part 2! I must admit that this story's updates may come fast or slow and I have no schedule in mind. :( I'll continue to do my best though! Bucky's story is important to me.  
> I appreciate the feedback and kudos this story is receiving!

“Buck, please,” Steve begs again. He maintains eye contact but his expression is still bewildered. He must be seeing a ghost. After Bucky cut his hair and shaved, he looks almost like he did before.

 _Almost_.

Even though he spent much of his time with Hydra in cryo, the years have weighed heavily on him. He no longer has the boyish features he had when they first said goodbye all those years ago. He has dark circles under his eyes and lines around his mouth; his body is covered in scars from torture, fights, and bullet wounds, not to mention the horrible marring surrounding his left shoulder.

“Steve, you _promised_.” Bucky reiterates for the millionth time. “You said you’d keep me from hurting people.”

“Not like _this_! I never promised _this_!” Steve shouts. “Going back under is – it’s risky and – and you’ve already missed so much time!”

What he means is ‘ _We’ve already missed so much time_ ’ but he doesn’t say that. Neither will Bucky.

“I can’t trust my own mind,” Bucky says, looking away. “So, until they figure out how to get this… stuff out of me, I think going back under is the best thing.” He feels Steve’s eyes boring into him but he won’t look up. “For _everyone_ ,” he adds and he knows that Steve understands.

Steve almost died over and over because of Bucky and the things that Hydra did to him, _made_ him into. Bucky can’t risk hurting Steve again. He knows that this choice is painful; he knows that Steve’s struggling to keep any composure. It’s obvious in the tense lines around his eyes and mouth.

“What if I could find someone to help? What if –”

“Then find ‘em, pal,” he finally cracks, shouting and scowling at Steve, challenging him. “But until they’re here, in Wakanda, right in front of me – I’m not going to risk endangering someone.”

Steve’s startled by the abrupt change, by the anger, but it’s all a ruse. Bucky knows that he can conceal his fear and despair behind the rage and Steve won’t see it. He never did. When Steve was small and he’d come home, bruised and bloody, Bucky would shout and curse but, inside, he was helpless.

Anytime Steve left the apartment could be the last time Bucky saw him. He might pick the wrong fight, or have an asthma attack, or his heart could stop.

At that moment, though, it’s not Bucky fearing he’ll never see Steve again – this time, it’s the reverse. Steve is afraid he’ll lose Bucky forever. What if they can’t fix him? What if they can’t revive him? What if? What if? What if?

Steve has put a lot of faith in the king of Wakanda and his brilliant sister, but Bucky’s hope died in the snow in 1943.

He sighs. “I’m sorry, Steve.”

Steve takes a shaky breath. “I’m… sorry too. If only I’d –”

“Don’t,” Bucky interrupts, not wanting to hear it.

_If only I’d reached for you._

_If only I’d gone back for you._

_If only I’d jumped too._

“I don’t… regret anything,” he says, looking up. “I… I hate that I’m this now, that I was _made_ into this but guess what?” He feels a small smile on his lips. “You _survived_ past thirty. I remember doctors sayin’ you’d be gone the next winter, then the next, and the next. I never imagined we’d see this day, and here we are.”

He is crying a little but doesn’t much care right then because Steve is crying too.

“I’m so glad I got to… see you and talk to you again.”

Bucky remembers how he’d practiced conversations in his head, imagined what they would say to each other. Steve’s full on sobbing now, covering his face with his hands. Bucky wants so badly to hold him, to comfort him, but there is no comfort in this.

He goes on, “That’s all I could have ever asked for in my life. All I ever needed was you, healthy and safe.”

Steve’s body is wracked with sobs but he’s nodding his agreement. He hesitates for a few seconds before he yanks Bucky into a hug. One of his hands is buried in Bucky’s short hair, pressing their entire bodies close. For the life of him, Bucky no longer remembers why they hadn’t been doing this all along, why they hadn’t held tight once they’d found each other again. All of the reasons why they didn’t feel so meaningless now.

“You have to come back,” Steve says and, while it sounds like a demand, the desperation in his voice makes it clear that Steve is _begging_ him, pleading with him. “Come back, Buck,” he whispers as if to himself.

Bucky knows he can’t promise that he will. He knows there are no guarantees in this, nor any, life. He’s spent so much time lying to Steve – lying about himself, his feelings, his desires – but, in that moment, he can’t bear to lie.

Instead, he chooses misdirection. “Just don’t do anything stupid ’til I get back,” he replies, smiling against Steve’s neck.

Steve chuckles sadly and says, “How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.”

Bucky touches the back of Steve’s head, bringing them closer again. “You’re still a punk, Rogers,” Bucky tells him. “But you’re my punk.”

Steve breathes in a little faster; it hitches in his throat in a way Bucky likes but shouldn’t. It feels like all those nights he laid awake, watching Steve and hating himself. How many times did he touch himself thinking of Steve? How many girls did he dance with and kiss, imagining it was Steve? He remembers he even had a fella and pretended he was Steve.

He wanted to be normal – he tried damn hard too, but some things you can never run away from.

He knows that all too well now.

“Jerk,” Steve finally says after a moment but his heart’s not in it.

The door opens and Princess Shuri comes in. She smiles at Bucky, but her demeanor with Steve is a bit cooler. Bucky wonders how Steve came to know the royal family of such a reclusive country, but he doesn’t ask.

“Sargent Barnes,” she says, offering her hand for him to shake. “I have reviewed your… history and I believe I can help you.”

Bucky nods and offers a small smile, but Steve interrupts. “What are you going to do?”

King T’Challa, whom Bucky has not actually met, steps forward. “Shuri, please explain the safeguards you are taking to… ease some concerns.”

“Of course, brother.” She walks over to a computer screen near the cryo tube. “We used our most sophisticated bio-scanners to create a one-to-one digital representation of Sergeant Barnes’ brain.” She swipes across the screen and enlarges what appears to be a CAT scan image. “All the progress we make will be tested and re-tested again in the digital construct.”

Bucky glances at Steve and can tell that he’s following along easily. For the life of him, Bucky cannot understand the information he gained when he watched Steve – both as The Winter Soldier and after his escape. The people around Steve all seemed to think he was some kind of idiot with no understanding of technology.

Shuri, on the other hand, is not dumbing the information down for him, which Bucky appreciates.

“This will ensure that there is no damage in any way to the actual physical tissue.” She turns to Bucky and adds, “Trust me.”

“With all due respect,” Steve begins, stepping closer to Bucky as if either the King or Princess intends to attack him. “I’d like to know the risks. _All_ of them.”

Shuri cocks one eyebrow but nods. “It’s not as simple as erasing mental programming outright. There is no delete button here, and the majority of the programming is linked to the trigger words.”

Steve nods and Bucky tries to stop staring at him, but he can’t. If this is _it_ , if he doesn’t come out of this, he wants Steve to be the last thing he sees. He’s memorizing the hay-like color of Steve’s hair; the sky blue of his eyes; his nose that’d been broken more than once.

All of it, Bucky sees and hopes he’ll see it again, but knows he has no right to wish for such a gift. He knows he should be grateful he got to hug Steve, to talk to him, to see him truly become who he always was. A _hero_.

But that’s no surprise, really. He was always Bucky’s hero.

_Let’s hear it for Captain America!_

“The last thing we want to do is remove all of who Sargent Barnes is – his _loves_ ,” she says, drawing Bucky out of his thoughts, “his hates, his quirks, his whole personality – when trying to destroy what Hydra _made_ him to be. The hardest part will be rooting out the extent of his memories that have the greatest control over his physical actions.”

Bucky swallows.

Shuri locks eyes with him and finishes, “Of which… there are very, very many.”

“How do you plan to do that?” Steve asks.

She turns back to him and continues, “I’ve created an algorithm that will be able to flush the influence of the trigger words out while retaining the core context and content of those original memories. Essentially,” she says with a grin, “I should be able to _reboot_ him.”

“Thank you, Shuri,” King T’Challa says.

Shuri steps toward Bucky again and touches his right shoulder. They’d removed his metal arm when they arrived in the country, fearing it to be some sort of weapon. They hadn’t been entirely wrong.

“At the very least, Sargent Barnes,” Shuri offers, “you will be able to dream in peace.”

Bucky nods. “I’m ready.”

The King and Princess leave, though it’s clear that T’Challa intends to speak to Steve again. Bucky almost asks about it but doesn’t.

A young doctor approaches and says, “I’m going to give you and injection of Propofol. It will help you to fall asleep once we have you in the cryo tube.”

He wipes a small area on Bucky’s right arm with an alcohol pad, then carefully inserts the needle. Bucky can’t recall the last time someone handled him so gently.

Steve, then, steps forward to help Bucky stand up from the exam table. He wraps his arm around Bucky’s waist, though there’s no reason for him to. He doesn’t ask why, though, as Steve ushers him into the tube.

The glass covering closes and Bucky feels the Propofol kick in. If it weren’t for the medication, he might have a panic attack or worse. This feels nothing like the cryo Hydra put him through, though, and the drug helps him relax.

He opens his eyes and sees Steve; he’s crying again and Bucky hates himself. He considers calling it all off but then he hears the whoosh and feels the cool air and, soon, everything is dark and peaceful.

 _Goodbye, Steve_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dialogue between Bucky, Shuri, Steve, and T'Challa in this chapter was taken from the Infinity War lead-up comic. I loved the scene so much, I've wanted to find a way to use it in a story for a while.  
> What did you think?


	3. Part 3 - Sometimes the Weak Become the Strong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note the change in rating and the updated tags. <3

 

The notice showed up that day in its unmistakable envelope. Bucky had stared at it for several minutes, sure that his eyes were deceiving him. But they weren’t. He holds the letter in his hand and rereads it for the fifth time. Maybe it’s the sixth.

 

 

_ORDER TO REPORT FOR INDUCTION_

_The President of the United States_

_To James Buchanan Barnes_

_Order No. 11508_

_Having submitted yourself to the local board composed of your neighbors for the purpose of determining your availability for training and service in the armed forces of the United States, you are hereby notified that you have now been selected for conscription to the Army._

_You will, therefore, report to the local board at Brooklyn, New York at 0700 AM on the 25 th of June, 1942._

 

 

He feels sick, like his stomach’s twisting and doing tricks but he reads it again. “Oh, God,” he breathes, swallowing down the bile that threatens to come up.

His whole body feels sweaty and clammy but he’s not sure if it’s from the heat or the abject horror creeping up his spine. His undershirt is soaked through and he knows he should change before Steve gets home.

Oh, God, _Steve_.

Bucky’s known about the Selective Training and Service Act and he’d registered like he was supposed to. It had been in the President’s radio addresses and in the papers, so Steve had marched them both down to sign up. Some sixty percent of Americans are in favor and, he’s willing to bet a lot of them are too old to register.

He hears footsteps in the hall and he folds the letter up, shoving it in his pocket. Steve unlocks the door, calling, “Hey, Buck, I got a couple potatoes from Mr. Shaw.”

Bucky takes a deep breath and focuses on making his voice as normal as possible. “Th-that old guy should just give you a job, all the food he passes you.”

Steve shakes his head and toes his shoes off. “He helps how he can. With the war goin’ on, he’s got a lot of folks actually payin’ him money for his stuff.”

“Like we don’t?” Bucky argues.

Steve sighs. “Buck, I hardly bring any money in and my stupid medicine –”

“Hey!”

“– takes that up, plus more. We got rent and utilities, not to mention the damn coal for the radiator, Buck! I just – I _gotta_ get a job, a real job, okay? I – I can’t keep mooching off you ‘til the Army takes me.”

At that, Bucky feels his body flush and the weight of the notice in his pocket feels like iron. Licking his lips, he says, “Uh, Steve, I have to… I gotta tell you –”

“What is it, Buck?” Steve asks, coming over. “You’re white as a ghost, pal.”

Bucky stands up and considers showing Steve the letter but thinks better of it. Steve’ll be furious to find out they’re taking Bucky but not him. He’ll raise Cain with the board and maybe he’ll really get arrested this time.

“I… I joined up,” he finally says. “I went in and… I’ve got to report in on the twenty-fifth.”

Steve’s eyes go wide and now _he_ looks like a ghost but he shakes himself. “Bucky, that’s – I’m so proud of you! I can’t believe you… did that and didn’t tell me. I’d’a gone with you!”

Bucky won’t admit that he’ll be grateful every day for the rest of his life that Steve isn’t going with him. He’ll never say out loud how happy it made him when the Army rejected Steve. He won’t say those things but he does ask, “But who’s gonna look after you?”

He is so sure that Steve will fly off the handle, he puts his hands up and is about to apologize when Steve is suddenly gone. Bucky blinks and rubs his eyes; he looks around and finds Steve sitting on their old couch. He stares out the window, pensive, maybe a little sad.

Bucky realizes then that this must be a dream. He looks around, trying to recognize what else is out of place, if he can. It’s been decades since he’s been in this apartment but everything appears just as it was then.

The potatoes Steve brought home; the sweltering heat; the notice tucked in his pocket. The events of this day went just the way they have so far, he remembers, except for one important thing.

When Bucky had asked that question, Steve became furious. He called Bucky a few choice words, told him where he could stick it, and stormed out. He didn’t come home that night and Bucky wandered the streets for hours, looking for him.

For some reason, in this dream, Steve _stayed_.

Bucky tries to remember if he ever dreamt while in Hydra’s cryo. He wonders, really, if theirs was designed to keep him from dreaming for fear that this might occur. That he’d remember something.

Steve fans himself with his sketchpad and groans, “This heat is killing me!”

Bucky steps closer to him and hedges, “You could take your shirt off?”

Steve smiles at him and shakes his head. “You don’t want to see that, Buck. I’m all pale skin and bones.”

“No, I – I do, I –” Bucky begins, but then thinks, _This is a dream. I can be a little bold, right?_

He strides over, giving Steve the knock-em-dead smile he used to use, the one all the dames loved so much. Steve stares at him, mouth open a bit and his eyes wide, and Bucky realizes that Steve _always_ looked at him that way – _before._

“Buck, what are you doin’?” Steve asks, shifting on the couch as if to scoot further away from Bucky.

Taking the seat directly next to Steve, Bucky has a moment of shame and guilt. Even if this is a dream, this is still _Steve_ and Bucky wouldn’t ever force or coerce him into… anything. He replies, “Just talkin’ to you, Stevie. That okay?”

It’s a simple statement but it also allows Steve to tell him to get the hell away from him. Even if Bucky wants to get _closer_.

“Uh,” Steve answers, slowly, “yeah, it’s… okay.”

Bucky sets his left hand on Steve’s bare leg, just above the knee, but leaves it sat there. He won’t move it unless he knows Steve wants him to. He’s only wearing his under shorts and one of Bucky’s old shirts, which Bucky has always _loved_.

Maybe, Bucky realizes, he should _say that_.

“Gotta tell you, doll,” he begins, “fuckin’ love when you wear my clothes.”

The shock that registers on Steve’s face is enough to remind Bucky how innocent and unsure he used to see Steve. During the war, Steve lost this expression entirely. Not much can surprise a man who’s watched men kill and torture men, women, and children, to appease thieves and liars.

“Buck…” Steve replies, nervously, “what are you sayin’?”

His thigh trembles a bit beneath Bucky’s hand – another indication of Steve’s virtue. He licks his bottom lip, watching with a hopeful heart as Steve’s eyes follow the movement. “I love you, Stevie,” he admits. “I love you so much and I just _had_ to tell you before I –”

Steve cuts Bucky off by pressing his lips to Bucky’s. It’s short and chaste but it is truly the most perfect kiss Bucky has ever experienced. Pull back, Steve meets his eyes and asks, “You mean that, Buck? You’d better not be fuckin’ with me or I’ll drop you.”

Bucky chuckles because Steve always swore like a sailor but, in the future, he doesn’t seem to do that anymore. But, then again, most of Bucky’s data is during several days of his hospitalization, followed by some mild stalking while Steve was focused on dismantling Hydra.

“You laughin’ at me, Buck?” Steve accuses, his voice low and angry.

“Never, doll,” Bucky promises, scooting even closer. “Not a bit.”

Steve puts a hand on Bucky’s chest – not pushing him, merely halting his progress. “You gonna get your rocks off with me, then go to the dance hall and let those girls put their hands all over you?”

Bucky licks his lips again, feeling the weight of his arousal at the idea that Steve might be _jealous_. “You don’t like it when they got their hands on me, Stevie?” He asks in a raspy voice.

Steve holds his gaze for a long moment before he answers, “No, I don’t. I _hate_ it.” Bucky’s breathing picks up with that simple statement and Steve starts to move, kneeling on the couch, facing Bucky. “I can’t stand the way dames look at you. How they touch you so _easily_ , like they got any right. They make passes at you all night long; they paw and stare at you, like you’re up for grabs.”

Bucky touches Steve’s cheek with one hand and buries the fingers of his other hand in Steve’s hair, but doesn’t pull. “Ain’t I, Stevie?” He asks in a quiet voice, letting his eyes wander to Steve’s lips.

Steve swallows hard – Bucky can feel his Adams apple move as he does it. Then he grabs the front of Bucky’s shirt in both fists and growls, “ _No_ , _you ain’t_.”

Then they’re kissing and this one isn’t quick and it isn’t chaste. Steve presses against Bucky and even crawls over him to straddle his lap. He turns his head to deepen the kiss and Bucky groans at the feel of Steve’s tongue. He has no way to know what it actually feels like but he’s had _years_ to imagine.

It’s the same with Steve’s ass. He’s never actually felt it but, when he reaches down to grab it, he’s sure he’s about right. He hopes that he’ll never forget the breathy moans Steve releases as his fingers tease the crease of his ass through his shorts.

Bucky wants to root himself in this dream and never wake up.

“Hey, stay with me here,” Steve whispers. “You’re a million miles away.”

Bucky chuckles again. “Sorry, doll,” he says. “Imagined what I’d do with you for so long, I’m gettin’ carried away.”

Steve holds Bucky’s gaze before he asks, “Is kissing me the only thing you’ve imagined?”

 _Oh_. “Not at all, doll,” he answers, yanking Steve back into a kiss.

“Show me,” Steve orders and Bucky realizes that’s the _Captain America_ voice – the one Steve always used to assert his authority over other men in their unit.

“My pleasure,” he agrees, wrapping his hands around Steve’s thighs and holding onto him as he stands up from the couch. Super soldier or no, Bucky used to carry Steve around the city all the time – when he was sick, when he was too beaten up, when he tried to refuse to go to the doctor.

He walks them to the bedroom, still kissing Steve and it’s turned a little sloppy now, a little too wet, but he won’t stop. He reaches the bed, though it’s not much more than a mattress on the floor, but it’s _theirs_. Or… it _was_.

He kneels down on it, settling Steve down and crawling over him. “We gotta get you outta these,” he says, tugging on Steve’s shirt. “Come on, I gotta touch you.”

Steve lifts his arms to allow the article to come off, but then immediately reaches for Bucky’s. “Get yours off too,” he says in that same voice. Bucky yanks the shirt off and throws it away, then reaches for Steve’s shorts. Steve grabs his wrists, suddenly, releasing a shaky breath. “You… you really mean this, right? You ain’t… you ain’t yankin’ my chain to… ‘cause I’ve never done this with a fella, Buck, I swear –”

“Stevie, you’ve never done this with _anyone_ and I’m gonna make it so you never want to with anyone else,” he swears, leaning down to kiss Steve again.

“Never wanted to anyway,” Steve replies and Bucky wishes that the real Steve felt that way.

He tugs Steve’s shorts off and, finally, can look at his entire body. He is pale, as Steve said he’d be, except for his cock. It’s pink and hard, leaking a little pre-come onto Steve’s abdomen.

He moves down between Steve’s legs and takes it in his hand. “Oh, fuck, Bucky,” Steve gasps, lifting his head up to watch.

“Gonna suck you,” Bucky says, meeting Steve’s eyes. “Gonna make you come.”

Steve groans and his head falls back on the mattress. Bucky leans down and takes Steve’s dick into his mouth, focusing on the head at first. The sounds Steve makes are desperate and helpless, and his fingers grip Bucky’s hair. He can almost fit all of Steve in his mouth right away, so he pulls off a bit and tries again. When Bucky deep-throats him, Steve almost jackknifes off the bed, crying out.

His hair is getting in the way, so Bucky tucks it behind his ears and doubles down on his efforts.

“Bucky, oh, fuck, Bucky, I’m – I’m gonna come, gonna come, Buck,” he rambles and pulls Bucky’s hair.

When he finally spills in Bucky’s mouth, Bucky swallows it down. It makes sense that Steve doesn’t have much stamina, but Bucky still takes it as a compliment. He lets Steve slip from his lips and kisses along his stomach, up his chest, and then to his lips. Steve accepts the kiss and even licks into Bucky’s mouth, tasting himself.

Bucky sits up and he remains in that spot, staring down at Steve and smiling. But something is different. The hand caressing Steve’s body is metal and Bucky’s hair is too long. He sits up more and is suddenly aware of how much bigger he is than Steve – how heavy and awkward he’s become.

But Steve is still smiling. “You could always stay,” he offers and Bucky knows exactly what he means. He could stay here, in this dream; he could _not wake up_ ; he could have Steve this way, as he always wanted to – forever.

This Steve will never get sick, or beat up; he’ll never die.

But this isn’t _his_ Steve. His Steve is out there, probably fighting some stupid fight, standing up to bullies that no one asked him to.

 _Alone_.

“I… can’t.” He takes a deep, shaky breath, and one of the walls of their apartment disappears. There is nothing behind it – no cityscape, no other rooms. He hears an accented voice, saying his name.

“ _Sergeant Barnes, can you hear me_?”

He looks back down at Steve but he’s different too; it’s almost like he’s fading away, turning to dust. “Go,” he says, smiling a little sadly. “He’s out there, waiting.”

“ _Sergeant Barnes_?”

“Steve, I love you,” he says. “In here, out there, it doesn’t matter.”

Steve smiles. “I lo–”

Then, Steve is gone and Bucky is alone in the apartment they had shared a lifetime ago. He had held this place in his heart as the halcyon days of their life but there’s nothing here for him now.

That truth hurts.

“ _Sergeant Barnes, can you hear us_?”

“Yes,” he whispers and shuts his eyes, “I hear you.”

When he reopens them, his vision is blurry but he tries to look around. There are people around but they’re nondescript blobs to him. He can tell that most of them are Wakandan. No, _all_ of them are.

“Steve?” He says, trying to sit up.

“No, Sergeant Barnes,” that voice says and two strong hand press his shoulders back down. “Captain Rogers is not here.”

“Where is he?” He asks, trying to push against the pressure. _Did they take the serum out of me? Is that how they fixed the trigger words?_ He wonders, feeling annoyed at his weakness.

“Captain Rogers has… been out of contact for some time.”

Bucky blinks and finally the King comes into focus. “ _How long_?” He asks.

T'Challa hesitates, glancing up at someone. “Four months.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I researched actual selective service letters for the format, which was actually super interesting. I hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you think!


	4. Part 4 - This Life's Not Always What it Seems

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning!**  
>  This chapter details goat pregnancy and labor.
> 
> All of the names in this chapter are Wakandan names from Marvel Comics.

 

The sunlight shines through the doorway of Bucky’s hut as he wakes up. Three sets of eyes stare down at him and he smiles. The children’s faces are painted white and gold, a practice that Bucky has not learned the significance of yet. He shifts to sit up and they yelp and giggle, caught in the act of being curious about him again. He laughs a little to himself as they run outside.

He hears a woman’s voice and stands up from his bed. There is a thick drape that separates his bedroom from the living area of his hut, which he himself hung up. When he decided to do it, he had imagined that Steve may come to visit and might want them to have privacy from one another.

His hut is small but there’s only one entry and two small windows. What it lacks in space it makes up for in security.

From his ‘bedroom,’ he goes to what he would call his ‘kitchen,’ though it’s not quite like the ones he’s had in the past.

There is a three foot counter space with two small cupboards below it, as well as a more modern Wakandan fridge and stove. There’s even a sink with running water. None of this fits with the more primitive exterior but he truly feels content here.

Though, actually _having_ a kitchen of any kind is a cut above sleeping under bridges or, worse yet, in Hydra bunkers. He rinses his face in the small basin he keeps, then dries himself with the towel.

One other difference between Hydra and Wakandan cryo is that, while he slept for two years, his hair grew out again. He’s able to pull it into a half-bun, one-handed, and tie it up.

He’s still getting used to having only one arm but he finds that he feels _better_ without it. He’d had it for so many years that he’d stopped noticing how heavy it was. Without it, he moves more easily. He wears a scarf to cover the stump since he’s already so different from the people who live near him – being white and all – that he doesn’t like being even _more_ distinctive.

After he’s dried off, he steps out into the light of day, admiring the beauty of the jungle, the lake, and the happiness of the children. They call out the same words over and over again, but Bucky doesn’t know what they’re saying.

He has learned a few basic Wakandan words and phrases, mostly those needed to purchase items at the bazaar.

Princess Shuri is standing by the lake, smiling at him as he approaches. He’s been awake for nearly a month but this is the first time he’s seen her since they brought him out of cryo.

Before that, it had been _two years_. He knows, objectively, that he was kept under by Hydra for far longer than that but something about it makes his chest tighten up, like he can’t breathe.

“Good morning, Sergeant Barnes,” she says.

He takes a deep breath and corrects her. “Bucky.”

She nods her head and asks, “How are you feeling?”

Thinking for a moment, considering that the last few weeks have been the best he’s had in seventy-five years, he says, “Good.” Then he adds, “ _Thank you_.”

She smiles and touches his arm. “Come, there is much more for you to learn.”

He follows her as she leads him toward Birnin Zana, the Wakandan capital. Bucky spent several days there but, when King T’Challa offered for him to move out of the city, he accepted – _gratefully_.

“How are the goats?” Shuri asks as they pass the enclosure he’d built the first week here.

“They’re good,” he replies. “Abena’s pregnant.”

She stops and turns around with one eyebrow cocked. “Abena is?”

He nods, chuckling a little. “I think it was M’Demwe.”

She laughs and continues walking. “Have you asked your neighbors?”

“I asked Mohau and he agreed with my suspicions.”

“Well, he helped care for them after Chanda passed to Djalia.”

Bucky knows that is some sort of afterlife, according to the Wakandan religion, but he’s learned very little of it. Mohau, his closest neighbor, had offered for Bucky to go to their temple with him and his family, but Bucky wasn’t ready. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever be ready for some sort of faith but… he keeps it in mind.

“She was pregnant when I arrived but I didn’t realize until a week later.”

“How did you know?” She asks, smiling at him over her shoulder.

He points to Abena, a light brown doe munching on grass in the enclosure. “I mean, even I can see how fat she is compared to the others. I put two and two together.”

Shuri laughs out loud, catching Bucky off guard. When her fit calms down, she says, “You are funny, Bucky.”

He smiles and nods at her before they continue walking. His hut is several miles outside the city so he isn’t surprised to find that she’s come in a small ship. Transportation in Wakanda is incredible for its efficiency, speed, and comfort. What would’ve taken a half-hour takes less than three minutes.

Bucky is very well aware of where they’re going but he keeps his face neutral. When they land on top of the hospital, they make their way inside. Bucky follows Shuri into the elevator and they ride it down a few floors before the doors open into a conference room of some sort. Inside, the King sits at a round table while his personal guard flanks him. It’s a more relaxed visage than when he’d first entered the country, but it still puts him on edge.

 “Sergeant Barnes,” King T’Challa says, “how are you feeling?”

“I’m good,” he answers, honestly. “Thank you for… for all you’ve done.” He wonders if this will be when they tell him he has to leave the country, that he’s no longer welcome here.

“Please, sit,” T’Challa says, gesturing to the seats at the table. “We have much to discuss.”

Nodding, Bucky takes one of the chairs, glancing over at Shuri. She’s no more his friend than the King is but she’s treated him with compassion. She gives him a warm smile and takes a seat to his left.

“Sergeant, I wish to officially tell you that you may remain in Wakanda for as long as you wish to.”

Bucky blanches. “What?”

King T’Challa smirks and nods at Shuri, a quick jerk of the head. She grumbles and stands up, rounding the table and passing what Bucky assumes is _money_ to him. He pockets it and grins at her as she returns to her seat.

“I know you are surprised,” he says. “But I assure you that I am quite serious.”

Shuri touches his shoulder, gently. “We want to offer you a place here.”

“W-why?” He asks, unable to conceal his confusion and shock. “I don’t understand. You don’t owe me anything.”

“It is not about _owing_ , Sergeant Barnes,” T’Challa explains. “It is about doing what is right. We have been made fully aware of your history and, considering recent events, we feel that Wakanda is the safest place for you.”

His eyebrows furrow and he frowns. “Recent events?”

T’Challa nods and stands up; using the beaded bracelet on his wrist, he projects images into the air. One is a news conference of a man Bucky recognizes as Thaddeus Ross. T’Challa touches the beads again and the sound comes on.

“ _Following the Shield leak, certain documents confirm the existence of one James Buchanan Barnes, also known as The Winter Soldier. These documents indicate that this man has committed numerous heinous acts against America and her allies. Among these crimes, it is believed that he is guilty of murdering Howard and Maria Stark._ ”

Bucky gasps. His mind flashes to a dark road and a man who’d called him _Sergeant Barnes_ , then begged The Soldier to spare his wife’s life.

“ _Today, the President has approved for the Justice Department to seek criminal charges against this man. At this time, his whereabouts are unknown but we believe he was last seen in Rossosh, Russia._ ”

Bucky lets his head drop into his hand. “Oh, God.”

T’Challa cuts the video and returns to his seat. “I am sorry, Sergeant Barnes, but I give you my word that no one will find you here.”

Bucky looks up, feeling tears on his cheeks. “You don’t have to do that. I – I don’t deserve your kindness.”

Shuri looks over at him with tremendous sympathy. “Bucky, that is not the only… news we have.”

He meets her gaze and _knows_. “Oh, no. _Steve_.”

Nodding, she says, “Captain Rogers left Wakanda a few weeks after you went into cryo. He checked in with us and came to see you many times until six months ago. He came to our border to tell us that he’d been compromised and could not return, though he could not tell us where he intended to go or for how long.”

T’Challa cuts in, “We provided him with Kimoyo beads which have many, many uses, including audio, video, and even written contact. One month later, he sent us this communique.”

T’Challa presses something on his bracelet and an image projects into the air again. This time, however, it’s _Steve_ , but he looks different than when they’d said their goodbyes two years ago. Though, to Bucky, it had seemed like minutes. On the screen, Steve’s hair is longer and slicked back and he’s grown a beard; he looks tired, too, drained.

“ _Your Highness, King T’Challa, this will be my last message for… I don’t know. Tony, uh, Stark was made aware of The Winter Soldier’s involvement in his parents’ death and… well, he_ demanded _I hand Bucky over. Natasha, Sam, Wanda, and Clint agreed with me and, I thought, Tony would see the light._

“ _I was wrong. I know you owe me nothing and I know you owe Bucky nothing but, please, do not turn him over. They have no reason to believe Bucky is in Wakanda and, if I stay away, they won’t find him._

“ _I… I’d hoped to be there when he wakes up. Tell him… tell him I’m sorry. Tell him it’s my turn to protect him, to have his six._ ”

Bucky has been crying pretty heavily by that point and he’s so angry with Steve for not simply letting him go. Steve can’t know all of the things Bucky has done – he can’t understand what Bucky’s stolen from people like Tony.

“ _When…_ if _this cools down, I’ll come back. Please, tell him that too. I’ll be in touch as soon as I can._ ” Then the video cuts out and Steve is gone.

Bucky wipes his face and asks, “Are his… beads still online?”

Shuri nods. “Yes but we cannot track him. When you came out of cryo, we informed him but received no word back.”

“Can you be sure… that he still has the beads?”

T’Challa gives Bucky a sad look before he says, “No. But if anyone attempts to access them without proper clearance, the beads’ computers self-destruct. We would know if this occurred.”

Bucky sighs in relief since that means that Steve is more than likely _alive_. He takes a shuddering breath and asks, “What do I do now?”

Shuri touches his shoulder again. “Nothing, Bucky. We can only wait and hope he contacts us.”

Bucky knows there’s nothing more to be said, so he nods and stands up. Shuri is silent as they travel back to his hut, though she touches his shoulder as he exits the ship. She holds her hand out and he opens his palm.

“Here,” she says, “you will need these.”

He looks down. “Kimoyo beads?”

She nods her head. “If Captain Rogers contacts us, we can let you know immediately.”

“Thank you,” he says, then turns to leave. He goes into his hut and gets a drink of water; he ignores the shaking in his hand. “God damn it, Steve,” he sighs. “Why couldn’t you just give me over?” He asks out loud but he knows the answer.

It’s the same as Bucky would have if their situations were reversed. Bucky can honestly say he would kill anyone that tried to hurt Steve.

He takes a deep breath and scrubs his hand over his face. He needs to keep busy, he knows that. He’s been building a covered stable for the goats after Mohau warned him about an impending storm. It will look like a small barn with an open-air loafing area when he’s completed it. So far, he has the bones of the structure built but he knows that he’ll need help if he’s to get it done before the monsoon hits.

It’s with anxiety and a little bit of embarrassment that Bucky approaches Mohau’s home and calls out to him. “Mohau? Are you here?” Mohau’s youngest son comes out and says something to him, but he doesn’t understand. “Sorry, I don’t speak… is your dad here?” He asks, feeling even worse.

The boy nods and waves for Bucky to follow him away from the hut, toward the trees. Then, he points and calls out, “Baba!”

After a few seconds, Bucky hears people approaching and, finally, Mohau comes into view. “Ah, Bucky,” he says, smiling. “Are you unwell?”

He shakes his head. “No, nothing like that. I know you have your own work to do but would it be possible for you – or anyone – to help me? I need to get this stable built before the rains and –”

“Of course, Bucky,” Mohau interrupts him, smiling. “We help each other here. If your goats die or get sick, it affects more than just you. That is how we see it. Of course we will help you. Let me gather some more people.”

“I can’t pay you,” Bucky says in a rush, feeling ashamed.

Mohau only smiles. “We would not take payment for this. Others will come to you for help and you will do what you can – not for payment, but because you are a good man.”

He takes a breath and asks, “How do you know that?”

Mohau gives him a sad look but doesn’t answer. He turns and walks away, calling his children over. He crouches down and speaks to them, pointing in various directions before they each start running off.

“Come, Bucky,” Mohau says, wrapping an arm around Bucky’s shoulders. “The children are gathering others to come assist us.”

Bucky and Mohau begin to work right away. When Bucky next looks up, Jakarra, an older man that lives in a hut on the other side of the lake, approaches with his wife, Ororo, and their three sons, H’Llah, Nezhno, and D’Kar.

When Bucky first arrived at this hut, Jakarra and Ororo came with food and said a prayer for him. Jakarra speaks a little English but Ororo and their sons neither speak nor understand a word of it.

“Bucky,” he says, coming closer. “We are here to help.”

“Thank you,” Bucky says, sincerely.

Within thirty minutes, nearly twenty other villagers have come with their own tools. They immediately set to work, reinforcing the foundation and building the walls. While two of Bucky’s goats – Abena and M’Demwe – rest near a large tree, staying out of the heat, the others are more curious.

Onome and Raki follow behind the villagers as they carry boards and use their hammers to secure them to the barn walls. Bucky has to keep Shoon’kwa with him at all times, as she has been caught eating nails and even trying to make off with Jakarra’s saw.

“Abena will give birth soon,” Mohau tells him while they take a break to eat lunch. “I can tell. She is preparing.”

Bucky follows his line of sight and sees Abena has left her spot under the tree and is now lying on the ground away from M’Demwe. She seems very uncomfortable, shifting almost constantly.

Looking up, Bucky notices that the sky is beginning to cloud over and Mohau calls out to the others. Then he turns back to Bucky and says, “Come, we must finish soon.”

They have only the roof to complete by then and Bucky nods, hurrying to get to the barn. With the help of the villagers, Bucky’s enclosure is up and secured in a few hours – while it would have taken him several more days to do, especially with only one arm.

“Thank you, thank you,” he says, over and over.

Mohau pats his shoulder. “Enkosi,” he says, placing a hand over his own heart. “Enkosi.”

 _Thank you_ , Bucky realizes. “Enkosi,” he says, smiling at everyone.

They all smile back and say, “Wamkelekile,” which means _You’re welcome_.

When the first rain drops begin to fall, Bucky has carried Abena inside the barn and herded the others inside as well. There is an upper loft with hay where he lays Abena down. He pats her head and brings a small water trough to her.

He hurries into his hut and bathes. It’s odd to imagine that such a primitive hut would have a fully functional bathroom, but here it is. Afterward, he ties his hair into a bun and makes himself dinner.

It’s barely an hour later when he hears the screams.

He races out his door, ignoring the pelting rain and muddy earth, and rushes into the barn. “Abena,” he calls, climbing into the loft.

It’s dark but he finds her with her face against the wall. She’s panting and he can see her abdomen contracting and she makes that same terrible sound. He gently rubs her back and speaks in a soothing tone, but when he looks at her back end, he finds what’s wrong. A pair of white hooves pokes out, instead of a baby’s nose – like Mohau told him she’d give birth.

 _Breeching_ , he thinks, though he’s not sure why the word comes to mind.

He helps her turn and continues soothing her with his hand, ensuring she knows where he is at all times. “Abena, I’m gonna help you, baby girl, I’m gonna help you,” he says, though he can’t be sure she hears him over the sound of the heavy rainfall on the roof.

He gently grips the kid’s hooves and pulls, bracing his shoulder against Abena’s backside. She pants and her belly contracts, telling him she’s pushing as he’s pulling, and then the baby starts to come out.

“Okay, baby girl, we got this. Push again for me,” he says and pulls again as she pushes. Slowly and carefully, a teeny, pale body comes out and Bucky thinks he’s crying with Abena. “She’s almost out, baby,” he says and gives one final, gentle tug, and the baby is out. “Oh, God,” he breathes, catching the kid in his arm and crawling with her toward Abena’s head. “Here she is, mama,” he murmurs, letting Abena see her.

She sniffs the baby and begins licking her, cleaning the fluid off of her. He tries to keep ahold of her but she begins to wriggle out of his arm, so he sets her down in the hay.

“What’s your name gonna be?” He wonders aloud, wiping her face down with his scarf.

He sits back, taking a few deep breaths, before he realizes that Abena’s not done. She’s still panting and contracting and he realizes she’s _still giving birth_.

“Alright, it’s alright,” he says, massaging her abdomen. “Let’s hope this one’s easier on you.”

By the time the rain has stopped falling and the dawn is approaching, Bucky has three kids sleeping against him while Abena rests her head on his leg. There’s blood all over his hand and arm but it’s a different kind of blood – life. He stares at it, eyes wide.

He helped bring _life_ into the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did some research on goats and their labor and delivery to make this chapter as accurate as possible. The language the Wakandans speak (in the MCU and my fic) is Xhosa, which is an actual language. However, I'm limited in my knowledge of the language so I cannot guarantee that my translations are perfectly accurate. I'm sorry about that. :( If you see an error, please let me know so I can fix it.  
> More sad Steve stuff in this chapter but don't worry - there will be Bucky/Steve interactions soon! <3


	5. 'Cause I Was Made for Chasing Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, Steve and Bucky are reunited!

 

Bucky uses his mallet to pound the fence post into the ground, aiming and striking with precision. It’s been about a month since Greta, Clark, and Errol were born and he’s had to increase the size of the enclosure. Abena seems to have taken over the loft and her kids sleep up there with her, but they’re not the only ones. Since the monsoon, Bucky’s been unable to sleep anywhere but with them.

The other goats were curious about him the first few nights, but they don’t notice him now.

He feels something bump into his leg and he looks down to find Greta, all white apart from a light brown spot on her head, staring up at him. He kneels down to pat her but she leaps up and stands on his shoulder before jumping into the air. He worries for a moment that she might hurt herself, but she lands perfectly.

She turns and bleats at him, then runs back to Abena’s side to nurse. He smiles at them and finishes securing the post.

“Nezhno,” he calls, turning to find the young man.

He comes over and Bucky holds the beam in place while he hammers the nail into it. Then, they repeat the step with the lower section.

“Enkosi,” he says, patting Nezhno on the shoulder. He’s learned more Wakandan in the last few weeks. When the villagers learned of Abena’s births, they came to celebrate with Bucky. They brought food and prayed for the kids’ health.  

“Bucky,” Nezhno begins, then looks around, thinking. “Would you… come to eat? Tonight?”

Since the villagers came to help Bucky build the barn, they’ve invited him to their homes for meals almost daily. While he was confused at first, he realizes now that it’s always been the norm of the villagers to cook for one another and he feels lucky to be asked.

“Yes,” he says, nodding and smiling.

Bucky and Nezhano corral the goats into the enclosure and close the gate. After he washes his face, Bucky makes his way to Jakkaro’s home. The family is seated outside when Bucky approaches and he kneels on the ground next to them.

“Bucky,” Jakkaro says, “[it is good of you to join us.]”

Nodding, Bucky replies, “[Thank you for inviting me.]”

He remains with them for a few hours, listening as they speak to one another and trying to keep up. He never speaks much but they accept his silence and never ask for more.

That night, he returns to his hut and bathes; he lies back in the tub, letting the hot water soothe his aching muscles until his skin starts to prune. He wraps his sarong around his waist, but leaves his chest bare. He hopes no one will come visit him tonight – he doesn’t want to wrap the scarf around his stump.

His long hair lies wet around his back and shoulders, dripping down his chest. He dips his fingers into some coconut oil and runs his hand over his beard, then through his hair. While he was on the run, his hair had been a nuisance but he’d been forced to manage. Since waking in Wakanda, Bucky has chosen to keep it long and to take care of it.

He often braids it and has learned a number of new styles that he’s quite proud of. For now, though, he’ll just let it dry.

He hears a strange sound and turns to find that his kimoyo beads – so tauntingly silent since he’d received them – are blinking and buzzing. He begins to walk over when an even louder sound coming from outside startles him. He turns and walks toward the entrance just as a large form fills it.

Bucky’s frightened for a moment before he sees hay-colored hair and tired, sky blue eyes.

“Steve?” He says, rushing forward to catch him just as Steve collapses in his doorway.

“Hey, Buck,” he replies, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s shoulders and burying his face in Bucky’s neck. Before he did, though, Bucky caught sight of bruises and cuts, maybe even some mild burns.

But he can’t be bothered to care much about that right now. He has Steve – here – in his hut. He hugs him close, ignoring how filthy Steve must be in favor of never letting go.

“Come on,” Bucky says, pulling Steve inside. Once there, the buzzing seems to get louder, and he realizes what it must be about. “Shit, Steve, I gotta get that before the King sends the entire Dora Milaje to arrest you.”

“I’d like to see him try.” Steve chuckles. He rests his head on more on Bucky’s shoulder and runs his nose along Bucky’s neck, sending shivers along his spine. “I did sneak in and get _this_ close to the capital.”

Bucky helps Steve settle on one of his comfortable floor cushions, then he hurries to the beads. He scans his fingerprint and King T’Challa appears on the screen. “Sergeant Barnes, I trust you are well,” he says and before Bucky can answer, he goes on. “I was informed that person or persons unknown made their way past the barrier. Can you confirm you are safe?”

“Yes, your Highness, it’s – it’s Steve,” he says.

“Bring it here,” Steve calls and Bucky turns, taking him in fully.

He looks just like he did in the transmission he’d sent T’Challa all those months ago, his hair and beard longer than Bucky’s ever seen them. There are fresh bruises, as well as scrapes and cuts on his face, and a definite burn on his neck. “Jesus, Steve,” he groans, walking back over.

“Your Highness,” Steve begins, ignoring Bucky’s disapproval. “I’m sorry but I had to make my way inside without your people knowing, in case I was being followed. I’ll offer a full apology to you in person.”

There’s a pause where Bucky wonders if T’Challa will send his guard anyway, but he finally answers. “Thank you, Captain Rogers. I look forward to that.” Then the video ends.

Bucky sets the beads down on his table and looks at Steve, eyes wide. “You’re here,” He breaths, reaching out and touching Steve’s beard. “You came back.”

Steve leans into the touch and smiles. “Of course I did.”

He’s wearing his stealth suit but the star symbol seems to have been carved out, as if Steve is no longer _Captain America_. Bucky then considers that Steve may not be very _welcome_ in America.

“What are you now?” He asks, touching the spot on Steve’s chest. “A man without a country. Like, a nomad?”

Steve purses his lips and then nods. “I like how that sounds.”

Bucky chuckles. “Well, it’s all yours do – er, pal.”

His face burns and he hurries to the bathroom to find his first aid kit. He gets a cloth wet with cool water, though it’s not necessary – just another way to buy himself time. When he comes out, Steve’s resting against the wall with his eyes closed. He walks over, feeling exposed without a shirt on, so he sets the supplies down while he locates one. The dashiki he finds doesn’t match his sarong but he’s not sure he cares much.

“How did all this happen?” He asks, kneeling in front of Steve.

Cracking his eyes, Steve looks at Bucky’s chest and Bucky’s sure he frowns, but the look is gone as soon as it appeared. “Tony. Iron Man,” Steve says by way of an answer. “He said he’d give me _one last chance_ to bring you in or he’d find you and ‘take care of you’ himself.” Steve sighs and continues, “Needless to say, I didn’t take too kindly to that suggestion.”

“So you started a fight,” Bucky surmises and Steve scoffs.

“ _He_ started it, Buck. My team had my back but he has the United States Government behind him.”

Bucky reads between the lines and asks, “What’ll happen to them? Your team?”

Steve meets his eyes. “Whatever it is, I’ll deal with it.”

Bucky shakes his head; he tugs the lid off of the kit and pulls out the little packet of burn ointment. He rips it open with his teeth and handles it with his thumb to spread some over his fingers. Then he reaches out and smears it over Steve’s neck where the skin is black and red from an obvious particle beam hit.

“I don’t know if I’m worth all this, Steve,” he says, dejectedly.

Steve grabs Bucky’s wrist and halts his movements. “What you did all those years, it wasn’t your fault,” he says in his Captain America voice – the one meant to inspire trust and faith. “You didn’t have a choice.”

Bucky meets his eyes. “I know,” he says. “But I did it.”

Steve keeps hold of his wrist, eyes locked on Bucky’s. He’s going to argue, Bucky’s sure, and he doesn’t want to hear it. His fingers are soft and warm where they grip Bucky, and the sensation is distracting. He’s almost dizzy with it. Steve’s lips look chapped but he bets they feel good anyway.

Bucky yanks his hand away and continues spreading the ointment on Steve’s neck, effectively breaking the spell.

“You can get cleaned up and take the bed,” he says, swallowing. He wipes his fingers on the wet cloth and uses it to wipe some dirt and sweat off of Steve’s face.

“Not gonna take your bed, Buck,” Steve says, defiantly.

“I’ve gotta go check my goats,” Bucky says, standing and walking out of the hut.

“Buck!” Steve calls but Bucky doesn’t stop or slow down.

That night, Bucky sleeps with the kids and Abena, as usual, but for much different reasons.

In the morning, he stretches out, receiving grumpy bleats from Greta and Errol, while Clark sleeps right through it. “Sorry, guys,” he says as he scoots out from under them. “Work to do.”

Once he exits the barn, he remembers what happened the night before and feels a pang of fear that Steve might have _left_. He runs back to the hut, hopping the fence as he goes, and gets to the entryway.

“Steve?” He calls, stepping inside. He rounds the drapery that separates the bedroom and finds…

A nearly naked super soldier. His hair sticks up all over and his mouth is open but he looks _peaceful_. Most of the bruises are gone; the cuts are almost totally healed and the burned skin is left slightly pink. The thin blanket that Bucky usually sleeps with covers Steve’s middle but he’s sure that Steve’s not actually naked. He can’t be.

He scrubs his face with his hand and hurries into the bathroom, splashing cold water on himself. “Shit,” he mutters but he’d forgotten about Steve’s goddamn super hearing.

“Buck, that you?” His voice sounds tired and Bucky knows this is early even for Steve.

“Go back to sleep,” Bucky urges as he steps out of the bathroom.

“No, Buck, I’m awake,” Steve says, sitting up and the blanket is moving down his body and Bucky thinks he’ll die if he doesn’t get away from here right now.

“I’ll be outside,” he says in a rush, but he forces himself not to run out of the hut.

He can’t remember it being _this hard_ to keep his desires under control. Never, once, did he ogle Steve or nearly call him pet names. Except, he remembers, in the dream.

“Shit,” he growls to himself. “Shit, shit, shit.”

He bends over the gather his hair with hand so he can tie it into a bun. It isn’t usually this difficult but he feels scattered, distracted. Something is _different_.

Once the tie is in, he gets back to the enclosure and starts getting the hay out for the goats to eat. He always adds in extra grains to their morning meal, as well as berries or other treats. Once they’re fed, he’ll open the gate to allow them to come out and drink from the lake or play.

“Buck?” Steve calls and Bucky turns around. His jaw hits the ground, he’s sure of it.

“Steve,” he says, “are you wearing a sarong?” Seeing someone so masculine, so beautiful, wrapped in the brightly colored fabric would be arousing on its own – but _Steve_ wrapped in it has Bucky’s heart pounding.

“Yeah,” he says, giving Bucky a shy smile. “I had to borrow your clothes. All I had when I got here last night was my suit and, well…” He trails off and Bucky knows what he’s saying. “I can take it off if you want me to,” Steve offers, backpedaling.

“No!” Bucky says _too_ emphatically, _too_ loudly. “No, no, it’s fine, Steve,” he corrects. “We can wash your suit if you want to or we can go to the market and get you some clothes.”

Steve’s smile returns to its full vibrancy. “Both might be good but… later.”

Bucky sees the way that Steve is looking at him now, like he did when they were children and Bucky’s parents kept him home while Steve was sick. Like he’s _missed_ Bucky.

Bucky’s missed him too.

So he drops the food and runs, fast, to Steve and jumps in the air. Steve catches him easily and holds him off the ground. Bucky remembers Steve’s friendship – his fierce loyalty, his kindness, and his honesty.

Bucky feels Steve’s chest rumble as he speaks. “You said… two years ago, you said all you ever needed was me, but I didn’t say anything.”

“It’s fine, Steve,” he promises, refusing to release his hold one inch. “I don’t need you to say anything.”

Steve is quiet for a moment before he replies, “You were all I ever _had_ , Bucky. Even when I had nothing, I had you. I never felt like I brought anything to our… friendship but trouble.”

“Oh, Stevie, no –”

“But you’re all I’ve ever needed, too, Buck. When we were kids, I was always terrified you’d realize I was just a fat-head not worth your time and you’d leave me. But you never did.” He lets Bucky slip down so his feet touch the ground, but he doesn’t release his embrace, and neither does Bucky. “You’re the best friend I could ever ask for.”

With that sentence, Bucky feels sharp pain in his chest. He clenches his jaw, fighting off the tears threatening to fall. He doesn’t know why it should hurt now, after all these years, but it does. He lets his arm drop and pats Steve’s shoulder before stepping backward. He won’t let Steve see the pain he knows is all over his face.

“You’re my best friend, too, Steve,” he says and turns back to find the goats eating hay out of the feedbag. “Hey! No, you know better!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I just had to make it sad.  
> Sorry, everyone.


	6. So I Cry Myself to Sleep and Hope the Devil I Don’t Meet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took a bit longer than previous chapters have but I'm quite happy with it.

 

Steve’s laughter is a sweet sound, one Bucky hasn’t heard in… decades. When he’d found Bucky in that bunker two years ago, and over the weeks that followed, Steve watched him intently, as if Bucky might disappear if he closed his eyes. Though, Bucky had wanted to run away then, to get as far away from Steve as he could.

Not anymore, though.

Now, Steve eyes Bucky with a look of contentment. He looks _happy_ , which must be why Bucky feels warm, even at peace. As Abena passes by, Bucky pats her head and checks her utters. He recognizes that he’ll have to milk her, so he leads her to the fence and secures her with a harness. He sets hay and oats in a trough that she can reach and then goes to find the bucket. He’s far too tall to use a little chair, so he chooses to kneel at her side.

He’s gentle with her and ensures that she feels comfortable before he starts working. He uses a wet cloth to wipe her down first, then tosses it aside to wash later. It’s when he begins to squeeze her utters that he realizes Steve’s long since stopped laughing. Its absence is suddenly like a papercut.

He hears Steve’s approach but is still caught off guard when he speaks. “I remember when we saw that cow get milked at Coney Island, that time.” Steve’s voice is mirthful. “You asked if it was hurting her.”

Bucky chuckles and shakes his head, then glares at Steve over his shoulder. “Screw you, pal,” he retorts. “I’d like to see you do this one-handed.”

Steve’s quiet for a moment, then asks, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Bucky knows that Steve hates to be idle, needs to be busy. He gets that. “I got this but, if you don’t mind, you could start cleaning up the enclosure. The farmers use the manure for fertilizer, so I’ve got some burlap bags to shovel it into.”

Steve looks into the fenced area and Bucky wonders if he’ll scoff at such filthy work. When you’ve saved a city from a natural disaster, or an alien attack, the idea of such boring manual labor may seem unworthy. But Steve surprises him by saying, “Where’s the shovel?”

Bucky stares at him, eyes wide, for a moment before he finally snaps out of it and points to the hut. “Leaning up over there.”

Steve grabs it and a couple burlap sacks and carries them into the enclosure. Bucky’s so busy watching Steve, he doesn’t notice how restless Abena’s become until she delivers a sharp kick to his shin.

“Ow, sorry, sorry,” he murmurs, resuming his work.

It only takes around twenty minutes before he’s finished and he unhooks the harness, allowing her to return to the kids. Bucky takes the bucket into the hut and sets up the second one with the straining cloth. He has the hold it between his knees to keep the cloth intact, but he’s done it a few times already. It’s not perfect but it’s nowhere near as messy as it was the first time.

He sets the milk in the refrigerator and washes the bucket out. When he’s finished there, he finds the second shovel and leaves the hut to help Steve but he’s _already done_. There are three bags full of manure and Steve is panting, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, but thankfully the sarong remains tied properly.

“What’s next, Buck?” He asks, smiling.

With one arm, it has taken Bucky _hours_ to clean the enclosure and tie the bags. He smiles and says, “Gotta keep you around, Rogers.” Steve’s face turns a little pink but Bucky imagines that the heat is finally getting to him. “Come on, let’s get some water, then we can take those bags around.”

They relax in the coolness of the hut – something Bucky has always wondered at. Is there an air conditioner? Is the mud they used to build it keeping the heat out?

“Buck,” Steve says, suddenly. “Do you… like it here?”

Bucky thinks that over for a moment. “The last time I can remember feeling this happy and secure was before I was shipped off to war in 1942.”

Steve looks at him then. “I’m glad I brought you here.”

“I am too,” Bucky agrees, smiling.

“Do you ever regret that you joined the Army?” Steve asks.

Bucky shakes his head. “I didn’t _join_ , Steve. I was conscripted.”

“What? But you told me –”

“I lied,” he says, honestly. “I didn’t want you to go off on the board and get arrested, or something.”

Steve’s eyes are wide for a moment and then they well up with tears. He covers his face in his hands and weeps. Bucky doesn’t understand, doesn’t know what he did that caused this until Steve finally speaks.

“You remember,” he whispers. “You remember that.”

Bucky crawls over to him and pulls him into a hug, letting Steve sob against his shoulder. “I do remember, punk.”

“I never thought I’d get you back,” Steve admits, trembling with the force of his emotions. “I was prepared to come here and get to know you and try to convince you… but you _remember_.”

Bucky tries to smile but everything Steve is saying _hurts_. He pulls back a bit and gingerly touches Steve’s beard and says, “I remember that your dad had a beard in all the photos your ma had hung up in the apartment.” She’s expression softens and he smiles. “Even with this, though, you still look more like her. Your eyes and hair,” he goes on, touching Steve’s neck where the long hair stops. “It’s gotten long.”

Steve looks a little dazed but he nods. “Yeah, not many barber shops on the run.”

Bucky smiles a little. “I could cut it for you. If you want.”

He half expects Steve to refuse, worried about Bucky having something sharp near his head, but he doesn’t. Instead, he just smiles and it’s the happiest Bucky’s seen him since before the war, he’s sure.

“I’d like that, Buck,” he says in a quiet voice.

“Yeah?” He asks, licking his dry lips.

Steve’s eyes follow the movement. “Yeah, how about tonight?”

Bucky realizes that he and Steve are far closer than they had been; there’s barely six inches separating them. He blinks and sits back a little, swallowing around a suddenly dry throat. “W-we should get the fertilizer to everyone,” he suggests, standing and leaving the hut in a rush.

Bucky’s not proud to admit that he shows off a little when they arrive at Mohau’s hut. They meet him outside and Bucky sets the bag down. “Mohau,” Bucky says, “[this is Steve Rogers.]”

“Good to meet you, Steve Rogers,” Mohau says in English.

“Likewise, sir,” Steve replies, smiling, and even looking a little relieved.

“[I brought manure for your crops.]” Bucky speaks slowly, to ensure he’s using the correct words, but tries to make it seem effortless.

“Enkosi, Bucky,” Mohau says, chuckling.

As they walk away, Steve asks, “What did he say?”

“He just said ‘thank you’,” Bucky explains.

Steve remains silent as they cross to the next farm. As they approach, B’Gali comes out of his hut, carrying a basket of fruit. Bananas, mangoes, papaya, and passion fruit that came from his own crops.

“Bucky,” he says as they walk over. “[This was harvested yesterday. Ch’Tea picked them for you.”

Bucky nods and sets the fertilizer down to take the basket. “[Tell her I’m grateful.]”

As they move on, Steve asks, “Is the fruit for payment?”

Bucky shakes his head. “Oh, no. His daughter, Ch’Tea, has a little crush on me. She picks me fruit a couple times a week.”

Steve is silent for a long while and they continue walking. When they’re nearing Jakarro’s farm, he finally speaks. “Does her father… approve?”

Bucky stops suddenly and turns to Steve, grinning. “I sure as hell hope not. She’s eleven.”

Steve gasps, then chokes and starts to laugh. “That’s, uh, good. That’s good.” Bucky chuckles and they continue walking until Steve adds, “I guess some things never change, huh?”

“What do you mean?” Bucky asks, glancing at Steve over his shoulder.

“Well, you always had lots of da- er, women interested in you,” He says.

“Sure, maybe once a hundred years ago, pal,” Bucky retorts.

Steve’s quiet for a moment then says, “You remember when we had to ride back from Rockaway Beach in the back of that freezer truck?”

Bucky smiles at the memory. They’d decided to make a day of it, on account of the gorgeous weather, and got out of Brooklyn. Into _Queens_. “Was that the time we used our train money to buy hot dogs?” Bucky asks, chuckling.

Steve chuckles. “ _You_ blew three bucks trying to win a stuffed bear for that redhead.”

Bucky’s surprised that Steve would bring her up. They had spent an entire day on the boardwalk together and Bucky had only talked to that girl for a half an hour or less. “What was her name again?” He asks.

“Dolores,” Steve answers – again, surprising Bucky. Why would he remember that? “You called her ‘Dot.’”

Bucky frowns. “She’s got to be a hundred years old by now.”

“So are we, pal,” Steve replies, but there’s something in his tone that seems… off.

Luckily, they’ve reached Jakkaro’s hut and he comes out to meet them. “Hello, Bucky,” he says in English and Steve’s eyes light up a bit.

“Jakkaro, this is Steve Rogers,” he says, gesturing to him. “He’s visiting me.”

“Visitors are nice,” Jakkaro says, smiling. “Hello Steve, I am Jakkaro.”

“It’s good to meet you, sir,” Steve says, nodding once and bringing a fertilizer bag forward. “This is for your crops.”

“Thank you,” he says. “Bucky, bring your visitor to dinner.”

“We’ll be there,” Bucky says, nodding.

The next and final delivery is quick and, afterward, they return to the hut. Bucky slices up some of the fruit and sets it out with some cucumbers and a bit of sweet potato. He pours them each some cold water and they sit at Bucky’s table, eating every last bit.

“When will we go back to Jakkaro’s?”

Bucky takes another drink of his water and says, “When the sun sets.”

“What should we do until then?”

He thinks about it for a moment. “Let’s wash the suit and then we can go to the market. You can’t wear my clothes forever,” he jokes, even though the same feelings overtake him now as they did when Steve wore his shirts seventy years ago.

Steve hesitates for a moment before he nods too. They take the suit, which Bucky’s disturbed to find has a significant odor, and fill the large, metal bucket with cold water. Bucky uses more soap than he usually would and dunks it into the water to soak.

“This is… gonna take a while,” he admits, chuckling. “So, let’s go to the bazaar.”

Steve actually seems genuinely excited as they make their way to Birnin Zana. “I’ve been in the capital,” he explains, “but only to visit the palace. I didn’t get to explore the city much.”

Bucky still wonders how Steve knows T’Challa, but doesn’t ask. “Well, you can with me.”

The walk would be longer if Bucky were walking with one of the villagers, but because of Steve’s super soldier stamina, they run there in a matter of minutes. When they walk into the city, Bucky is again startled by the large panther watching over the city. Bucky notices that the expression on Steve’s face is more one of recognition, maybe even appreciation.

They enter the city and Bucky turns to the right, leading Steve to a massive open air market. It’s loud and crowded as vendors shout about their merchandise. The smells that hit them are delicious and distinctive – the aromas of spicy meats and sweet desserts, pungent stews and exotic fruits surround them. Steve’s eyes are wide as they walk and Bucky’s sure he misses nothing around them.

Stalls line the market on both sides with people shopping for wares, haggling with the vendors, or talking amongst themselves. They find a merchant with, what Bucky assures Steve are reasonably priced clothes, and he picks out three dashikis, lightweight cotton pants, and a couple pairs of shorts.

Bucky knows he’ll be sad to say goodbye to the sarong, even if Steve isn’t.

“I’m glad to have more things to wear,” Steve says as they leave the stall. “I can leave it here too, if I have to head out.”

The way that he says it, as if they both know he’ll be leaving, hits Bucky like a punch to the gut. He stops walking abruptly, causing a couple to nearly walk into him, but he hardly notices. He adjusts the scarf on his arm and continues moving, hoping that Steve is following him because he can’t bear to look at him to make sure.

Not now.

He can’t even be angry with Steve because that’s who he is – who he’s always been. If he sees a situation pointed south, he can’t ignore it. Bucky wishes he could… but he’s always been proud of Steve for that.

He’s not fully aware after that but they do get back to the village, then to the hut, and Bucky uses the washboard to scrub Steve’s suit. He thinks that he hears Steve talking to him but he’s not sure. All he knows for sure is the blood rushing in his ears and the pain of his cheeks where he’s biting them.

He tastes blood but doesn’t stop – can’t.

When he finally rinses the suit, he hangs it on the line and goes back into the hut. Steve’s sitting at the table and, when Bucky enters, he perks up. “Buck? You okay?”

He’s not sure how to answer that, so he says, “I’m gonna take a bath, then you can. Afterward, we’ll go to Jakkaro’s.”

“Buck,” Steve calls but Bucky shuts the door.

He scrubs and scrubs the dirty and sweat away; he washes his hair and rubs coconut oil in it. He hopes that Jakkaro will have some of his honey wine tonight. Someone told him once that Steve can’t get drunk because of his serum, but Bucky doesn’t have that problem.

When he gets out, he rewraps the sarong around himself but leaves his chest uncovered. Steve’s eyes widen and Bucky immediately regrets not covering the stump. He grabs a scarf and starts to yank it on but there’s no need, as Steve rushes past him into the bathroom.

Bucky tugs a dashiki on, then the scarf, and goes outside to feed the goats again. As they come over, he says, “I’m going to Jakkaro’s for dinner with Steve, so you’ll be on your own. Stay in the fence and you’ll be safe.”

They bleat amiably as he speaks, then they dig into the hay and oats he’s laid out for them. He pats their heads and pushes the kids toward Abena’s utters, encouraging them to eat too. When he’s put the food away, he turns to find Steve exiting the hut wearing his new clothes. Bucky already loves them on him.

“You ready to go?” He says, trying to smile despite the heaviness in his chest.

Steve can see but doesn’t mention it. Instead he says, “Yeah, I’m starved.”

They walk together in silence and Bucky feels the weight of it. As they approach, Jakkaro and his children are sitting outside and Bucky can smell the honey wine already. He and Steve sit together and Bucky introduces him to Jakkaro’s family. They try to speak English as much as they’re able and Bucky appreciates that.

He doesn’t talk much, as per his usual, but Steve is very popular. “Steve, you are Captain America, yes?” Nezhno asked.

“Yes, I am,” he replies, taking a sip of his wine while Bucky takes a gulp.

“You fought with Black Panther!”

Steve glances at Bucky but nods his head. “Yes, I – uh, I did.”

Bucky’s heard of the Black Panther but he’d been under the impression that he was some sort of local legend. However, Steve’s response seemed to suggest that the Panther was not only _real_ , but was some sort of superhero.

Bucky takes another gulp and finishes his food. He’s feeling the wine now but when Jakkaro offers him more, he gratefully accepts it. He feels Steve’s eyes on him but doesn’t know what to say to him. He does scoot closer to Steve, though, and lays his head on Steve’s shoulder. It seems like the most normal thing in the world, even when Steve’s body goes rigid for a moment. When it passes, though, he wraps his arm around Bucky and sighs.

“You ready to head out?” He asks after Bucky finishes his fourth – or fifth? – glass of wine.

Bucky nods, feeling light and sleepy. “Yeah, okay.” They stand up and he says, “[Goodnight, everyone. Thank you for dinner and the wine.]”

Jakkaro laughs. “Bucky,” he says, “[you drink far more than any mortal man and yet you _walk_ out of my home?]”

Bucky chuckles, then they wave to everyone as Steve leads him outside. Bucky’s not really thinking but he takes Steve’s hand and pulls him to run. “Let’s get home faster,” he urges and Steve picks up his pace.

Once they make it to the hut, Bucky sits down on the bed and Steve gets him a glass of water. As Bucky is drinking it, he touches Steve’s hair, noting how soft it is. Steve’s smile is soft and warm as he gently leans into Bucky’s touch.

When the cup’s empty, Steve takes the glass back to the kitchen and Bucky can’t help noticing the way those pants fit his ass so nicely.

“That’s America’s ass,” he teases and Steve laughs, looking at Bucky over his shoulder. When he turns, he suddenly looks unsure and Bucky smiles. “Sleep here,” he says, patting the bed.

He’s not too drunk to notice the way Steve’s eyes darken; he’s only too drunk to wonder _why they do_. Steve walks over, cautiously, and kneels in front of the bed. “I can sleep on the floor,” he offers.

Bucky just laughs, wrapping his arm around Steve’s huge shoulders and yanking him onto the bed as Bucky lays back. He lands on Bucky with an “Oof!” but doesn’t jerk away. He does adjust them so Bucky is lying on Steve’s chest, which is more comfortable than it should be, Bucky thinks. At least, until he falls asleep.

He dreams of a metal chair and a small man with glasses. When they press the electrodes to his head, he’s shocked awake with a gasp.

His head still burns.

He doesn’t have nightmares all the time now, which he’s grateful for, even though he remembers everything. He sits up and realizes that Steve’s not in the bed; Bucky checks the bathroom and kitchen, and then goes outside. Immediately, he hears Steve’s voice coming from the barn and he begins walking there.

When the words become clearer, he stops and listens. “Bucky’s taking really good care of you guys. You look really healthy, though I don’t know anything about goats. This barn’s new, right? He just built it?” He is interrupted by one of the kids bleating – Greta, Bucky’s sure. “Oh, sorry, I’ll try not to move so much. Better? You guys like these oats? Don’t tell Bucky.”

Bucky hadn’t realized until then that he’s smiling like an idiot; he feels elated and proud that Steve has seen the hard work Bucky puts in here. He keeps walking and enters the barn, finding Steve sitting in the loft with all three kids napping on him. Bucky says, “I helped Abena give birth.”

Steve looks down at him. “Which one’s she?” Bucky points to her, sleeping next to him, and Steve says, “Oh, hello, Abena. You got some great kids here.”

Bucky gestures to each one as he names them off. “Errol, Clark, and Greta.”

Steve smiles at him. “Errol Flynn, Clark Gable, and Greta Garbo?” Bucky nods and Steve looks a little distant before he quietly says, “You really do remember.”

Bucky nods. “Yeah, I really do. I remember trying to take you to see picture shows when we had a little extra money. You loved ‘em.”

Steve’s eyes go misty. “Yeah, Buck.”

Bucky climbs the ramp and sits next to them, patting Clark’s dark brown head. He stretches out and yawns, pressing his hooves against Bucky’s thigh, as if seeking him out. Bucky looks at Steve and smiles.

There’s something heavy in the air between them and Bucky isn’t sure what it is or what to do about it. It feels like Steve wants to speak, to say things, but doesn’t – won’t. Bucky doesn’t know why or what he can say or do to make him feel more comfortable, so he says nothing at all.

Before he knows it, Steve’s nodding off in the warmth of the barn, surrounded by sleeping goats. Even M’Demwe, Onome, and Raki sleep below them. Shoon’kwa is just outside , beneath the awning, but he’s sure she’s asleep too.

In that moment, Bucky’s emotions begin to burn and flow like lava in his chest. Steve is _here_ , with Bucky and his goats. He _cares_ about the goats and sneaks them treats and lets them fall asleep on him. He helps Bucky get home when he’s had a little too much to drink; he gets him water and holds him until he falls asleep.

But for how long? When will a new mission take him away from Wakanda? Away from Bucky? Will he come back? Will the next bully be the one that finally kills him? Would Bucky even _know_ if Steve died?

The idea makes him ache and tears well up in his eyes, but he clenches his jaw against the sobs that threaten to tear loose from his throat.

This is how Steve has always been and Bucky’s known that. He remembers feeling helpless at the sight of Steve’s bruises and cuts, knowing that no matter what he said or did, Steve would do it all again. That same feeling sent Bucky to fight by his side over and over and maybe it would again, no matter the peace he’s found.

Bucky would return to war for Steve, no matter what it cost.

If it means that he gives his life again, he’ll do it.

“Buck?” Steve asks, lifting his head from the wall it had rested on. “What’s wrong?”

Bucky looks at him and wipes his eyes. “It’s nothing. Nothing.”

“Why are you keeping things from me?” Steve asks and, for the first time, his voice is _angry_.

Bucky isn’t sure he can say all the things he has inside. It’s been locked up tight for so long, he doesn’t even know _how_ to say it. He’s not sure Steve would stay if he _did_ know the truth but, honestly, Bucky needs Steve more than he needs air. He needs Steve so much it _hurts_. The idea of Steve leaving him is terrifying – especially if he leaves because Bucky’s feelings disgust him.

He can keep it all inside if it means that Steve will stay. He would rather keep Steve as his friend; even watch him find someone else – maybe the blond who lived next door to him in D.C.? – than lose him.

He just doesn’t know if he gets that choice. He doesn’t know if Steve could live his life here.

With Bucky.

Would Steve choose Bucky if he asked him to? Would that be fair for Bucky to ask?

After all they’ve been through, could Steve set it aside – put the shield down – and just _live_ with Bucky?

“It doesn’t matter, Steve,” he finally says and quickly jumps from the loft to the ground below, then walks out of the barn.

Steve is right behind him, though. “Why wouldn’t it matter, Bucky?”

He stops walking but doesn’t turn around. “Because I… I can’t ask you to –”

“To what?” Steve interrupts, almost shouting.

Bucky swallows. It’s been getting harder and harder to keep this inside. He turns a little, looking at Steve. “To – to –”

“Do you _want_ me to leave, Bucky?” Steve asks with wide, hurt eyes.

“No!” Bucky shouts.

Steve’s mouth sets in a hard line and he squares his shoulders. “You want me here, Buck?” He asks but Bucky can’t speak, so Steve continues. “Then _ask me_ to stay.”

In the next moment, he’s walked past Bucky to the clothes line, yanked his suit off, and stalked into the hut. Bucky’s feet are frozen to the ground where he stands, watching as if this is when Steve will leave him _forever_.

When he reemerges from the hut, dressed in the marred Captain America outfit, Steve says, “I’ve got a meeting with the King.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know your thoughts on these two hopeless boys! <3


	7. Part 7 - All the Shit You’ve Had to Take Just to Lead Us Here Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note that I have updated the tags and added a chapter limit. This part is going to be sad, so I'm sorry in advance.

 

Bucky’s been in the hut for who knows how long, just staring ahead without really seeing. He feels _nothing_. Well, he hasn’t felt anything since Steve left.

He _left_ with no indication of whether or not he intended to return.

Bucky _made_ him leave – he pushed Steve away. What did he do?

He starts to cry, heaving sobs that make his body shake. He grips his own hair, right behind the ear, and yanks it, simulating the burn of the electrodes. His throat feels sore, as if he’s been screaming but he hears nothing – nothing except Steve’s footsteps as he left.

A hand touches his shoulder and, if he weren’t so lost in his despair, he might have attacked them. He turns to find Mohau there. “Bucky,” he says, “I thought someone was hurting you. What has happened?”

“It’s all my fault!” He shouts. “My own fault.”

Mohau gives him a pitying look and touches his hand, detangling the hair from his fingers gently. “You are safe, my friend. You are safe.” When the hand comes loose, Mohau wraps his arms around Bucky and rocks with him. “Steve will come back. He loves you, Bucky. I see that he loves you.”

Bucky can only shake his head, over and over. _Steve doesn’t love me. He doesn’t need me. I’m worthless. I’m worthless_.

“He _does_ love you. You are not worthless, Bucky,” Mohau is saying and Bucky realizes he had said that out loud. “You have made a new life for yourself and he is trying to find where he can fit in it. He will come back, my friend.”

Bucky’s still crying when Mohau fills a glass with water and leaves him alone. Bucky wipes his face and drinks it all down, then tries to gather his hair into a bun. He’s too distracted, too scattered, and it all falls down around his shoulders again. Frustrated, he growls and gives up, walking out of the hut to feed the goats.

His heart may be breaking but he’s still got them. He pats their heads after he throws hay and oats out. “You need me,” he says. “Don’t you?”

“Bucky?”

He turns around to find the Princess, Shuri, standing there. Immediately, he fears the worst and rushes toward her. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Captain Rogers is alright,” she says, immediately, but her smile isn’t reassuring. She seems… sad. “I urged him to come speak to you himself but…”

“I know Steve,” he supplies and she nods.

“Yes. I’m here to tell you that Captain Rogers had to leave urgently.”

Bucky blinks. “He had to leave… the village?” He knows that’s not what she means.

“No, Bucky,” she replies. “He had to leave Wakanda.”

“Why?” He asks, suddenly angry.

“We were informed that the U.S. Government believed he had come here. In order to keep them from sending spies that may find you – or _worse_ – he chose to leave… for a time.”

Bucky falls to his knees and all of his anger seeps from him, replaced by a hopelessness he hadn’t known for seventy years. In that moment, Bucky feels as he did on that table in Azzano; he feels as he did when Hydra put him in the chair the first time.

The irrevocable sense of _loss_. He’s _lost_ Steve again.

Shuri kneels by his side, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. “He will come back when it is safe, Bucky.”

He can only nod his head. “Thank you,” he says without a hint of sincerity but he can’t help that.

Shuri stays in the village to spend time with the children, though he’s sure she is trying to keep an eye on him for a while. Eventually, though, she leaves. Bucky continues his work and spends time with the goats, but there’s an emptiness inside him that wasn’t there before.

The days turn to weeks and the weeks to months, and Bucky hears nothing for, or about Steve. He keeps his beads on him at all times and visits the palace to ask, but there is no word.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_Eight Months Later_

 

Bucky is working in the enclosure, shoveling the manure into burlap bags. It’s not easy to do it with one arm but Bucky won’t allow Shuri to even discuss plans to build him a new one.

He can’t now. Maybe not ever.

The children watch him from the tree at one end of the fence. He knows what they’re saying now, what they call him – _The White Wolf_. He doesn’t want it, that title. He’s tired of war and killing, tired of the nightmares, tired of seeing the horrors he committed.

Sometimes, it’s _Steve_ at the other end of his rifle scope or his knife and, sometimes, Steve isn’t fast enough.

He knows that he isn’t taking care of himself right. The villagers tell him every day but even if they didn’t, he’d know. He works harder than is necessary and for longer than he needs to. He does so in hopes of tiring himself out so, maybe, he can sleep through the night and not wake up screaming.

But it never works.

It doesn’t help that he’s heard things recently. The villagers and people in the market _whisper_ about aliens kidnapping a man from New York City, of Iron Man disappearing into space, and of attacks in Scotland.

He hears that the Nomad has come out of hiding.

The people say that the Nomad travels with a blond woman and Bucky remembers that woman who lived next door to him. She was a Shield agent then, he recalls. He tries to be glad that Steve’s not alone.

He tries to not feel the hurt and rejection; he tries not to wonder why Steve never came back. But it _hurts_.

So he works and joins Mohau or Jakarra for dinner if they ask, but he drinks too much and even that doesn’t help him sleep.

He hears footsteps and turns to find King T’Challa and his Dora Milaje approaching. They carry a long, thin case that makes Bucky’s hackles rise. He approaches them and watches as they set the case on his cart. When the guard opens it, he sees the new arm. Vibranium. The King, at least, has the decency to look sympathetic.

He feels his heart drop in his chest, but he should have known that he’ll never be free until he’s dead.

 “Where’s the fight?” He asks the King.

“On its way,” he replies after a moment, then adds, “As is Captain Rogers.”

 _Steve will return for war_ , Bucky thinks, _but not for me_.

He feels sick but nods his head before returning to his hut. He bathes in a rush, scrubbing the stench from his hair and body. He has enough dignity left to not travel with the King while smelling like goat shit.

They arrive in the city and Bucky is ushered to the lab where Shuri is waiting. He hates it; hates the smell and the sounds, but he has no choice.

Even if Steve wants nothing to do with him, Bucky won’t let him fight alone. He’ll die saving him if that’s what it takes.

They provide him with reinforced clothes that look like his uniform from the war. He thinks that Shuri wanted to avoid reminding him of his time with Hydra, but this is almost worse. He gets it on, though, and allows the doctors to attach the arm.

It feels much lighter than the previous one, which he is eternally grateful for. He remembers when Hydra outfitted it, initially, and it ripped out of his socket.

He remembers that he didn’t even scream.

“Are you alright, Bucky?” the Princess asks. She's looking at him intently, so he nods his head. “Captain Rogers will be arriving in a few moments. You should go and meet him.”

Bucky tries to smile at her but she doesn’t look convinced. It doesn’t much matter, he knows, because they’re running out of time. He makes his way to the ground level as Steve’s ship is landing, and he walks over.

Steve steps out with James Rhodes, whom Bucky knows from Hydra’s files; a nervous looking man he believes may be Dr. Bruce Banner; Sam Wilson, the Falcon; the Vision robot; one of the other Hydra experiments, Wanda Maximoff; and a short haired blond woman. As he gets closer, though, he realizes that is, in fact, Natasha Romanoff and not the agent from Steve’s apartment.

Something in him loosens, if only a fraction.

The same feeling of excitement and joy at seeing Steve all those months ago, it returns with a vengeance, and he can’t stop smiling. His chest aches and he’s sure Steve will see it. Hell, so will Natasha.

“So, how big of an assault should we expect?” T’Challa asks as they walk toward the palace.

“Uh, sir,” Dr. Banner says, clearly unsure how to address the King, “I think you should expect _quite a big_ assault.”

Natasha asks, “How we lookin’?”

“You will have my King’s Guard, the Border Tribe, the Dora Milaje.” T’Challa pauses as he sees Bucky approach. He gestures toward him and says, “And…”

Bucky steps forward. “A semi-stable, hundred-year-old man,” he finishes for the King, giving Steve his happiest smile.

 _God_ , he thinks, _Steve looks so good._ His hair is still long and the suit is a mess, but he’s always been _beautiful_. If Steve could still look absolutely ravishing covered in blood and bruises, he can look amazing in torn, dirty stealth gear and a beard.

Steve hesitates for a fraction of a moment before he steps forward and pulls Bucky into a hug. “How you been, Buck?” He asks, smiling like they don’t have a long talk coming.

Smiling like they have all the time in the world.

“Not bad,” he replies, smiling at Sam and Natasha as if they’ve come for a visit. “For the end of the world,” he adds.

He follows them into the palace and waits as Steve talks to Shuri. He doesn’t listen to their discussion and remains in the hallway, unwilling to enter the lab again. When Steve’s done, he exits the room to find Bucky, looking a little more nervous than he did before. “Buck,” he begins, “I… I know we need to…”

Bucky doesn’t want to hear it. He doesn’t want to hear Steve’s excuses, or his justifications. He doesn’t want to _hear_ that Steve doesn’t need him anymore. Because Bucky still needs _Steve_.

If Steve’s going to leave him anyway… maybe Bucky should tell him.

“Steve,” he interrupts, touching Steve’s shoulder. “We can talk,” he whispers, stepping closer into Steve’s space, holding his gaze. “ _After_.”

Steve’s eyes widen but he nods his head. When he speaks again, he’s become Captain America. “Let’s get this done.”

After that, it’s a flurry of activity and fighting. Aliens with multiple arms and sharp fangs; a giant, axe-wielding warrior; a lithe, savage woman; and, finally, _Thanos_.

Bucky’s tossed away like a sack of potatoes trying to get to Steve, trying to protect him. Steve is knocked unconscious; Natasha is trapped under morphed dirt; Sam’s wings seem to glitch out; and War Machine’s suit malfunctions.

Everyone’s down when Thor throws that huge axe… but Thanos has it in him for one final move.

He snaps his fingers.

Thor is shouting, “What did you do?”

But Thanos doesn’t answer; instead, he disappears into a cloudy portal and Bucky stands up. He feels pretty sore from the hit and the landing, but he has to find Steve. He hurries over and finally sees him – up and looking around, asking, “Where’d he go?”

But Bucky feels strange. His body feels like static, like he’s full of bees, and he looks at the new arm to find it… disintegrating. “Steve?” He says, looking up to see Steve’s face, horrified, confused, and _so afraid_.

They were supposed to have more time. They were supposed to have the chance to talk and, maybe, Bucky would even tell Steve the truth. But now, all he has is this one last look – that terrified, desperate expression.

 _Goodbye, Steve_.

 

* * *

 

 

_What… is this? Am I dead?_

“Get up,” a deep voice says and Bucky opens his eyes. “Get up, they need us.”

“Who?” Bucky asks, moving to his knees. Everything looks different and… “Where’s Steve?” He jumps to his feet, grabbing for his gun but it isn’t there. He turns around and sees an Asian man wearing what Bucky would consider the garb of a Buddhist monk. Not that he’d really _know_.

The man nods his head. “We don’t have time for questions. They need us. _Now_.”

“Let’s go then,” Sam says, walking over. He tosses Bucky a rifle and Bucky doesn’t question where it came from. “You good, man?” Sam asks.

Nodding, Bucky answers, “I don’t know what the hell is going on, but we gotta go. Where is he?”

“They are not here,” T’Challa says, walking over with several Dora Milaje behind him.

“No,” the stranger says, “They are facing Thanos _alone_.”

Bucky almost sighs; he’s sure that Steve’s standing up against that giant purple raison on his own _as they speak_.

Sam nods his head and touches his ear. “Cap, you hear me?” Bucky hears no answer and Sam asks again. “Cap, it’s Sam. You hear me?”

When there is no answer again, Bucky begins to tremble. Is Steve already gone? Are they too late? Has he failed him again?

“Steve,” he finally says into the communicator and hears a sharp intake of breath on the other end. Bucky smiles and says, “It’s not the end of the line yet.”

Sam smirks at him and adds, “On your left.”

The Asian man begins to move his hand in a circle and Bucky almost questions him until a gold thread appears in the air, following his movements. Then, before Bucky’s eyes, a disastrous landscape emerges and – as he figured – Steve is standing _alone_ on that battlefield.

T’Challa and his guard step through the ring and, behind Sam, another portal opens. Through it, a tall man – is that a _cape_? – approaches them. Following behind him are a large, tattooed man, a woman with antennae, a human guy with some sort of blasters, and Spider-Man.

“Stephen,” the Asian man says to the cape-wearing… sorcerer? “What do we –?”

“We fight, Wong,” Stephen answers, opening up several more portals to the battlefield.

“Show-off,” Wong answers, focusing his own… magic more and creating other doorways. “Go,” he says to Bucky and Sam.

Sam takes off into the air and flies through one of the open portals up there, so Bucky takes a deep breath and runs through the one he’s closest to. “Steve!” He shouts, making his way over.

Steve looks terrible – filthy, beaten, and tired; his shield is _broken_ and he looks as if he’s just about to collapse. Bucky runs harder – he pushes his legs like he hasn’t done since he was a kid, since he ran to find Steve in alleyways and parking lots. Steve’s looking at him like he’s hung the moon, like Steve has never seen anything so wonderful in his life.

“Buck?” He breathes and starts to move too. He’s a little slower but just as determined. “Oh, my _God_ , Buck, you’re _alive_ ,” he’s saying as they collide in the middle and Bucky wraps Steve in his arms as tight as he dares.

“I’m here, punk,” he promises. “I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

Steve’s body is shaking but Bucky’s not sure if it’s just from weakness. “We did it,” he’s breathing in Bucky’s ear. “We brought you back. I lost you again, Buck, didn’t know what to do without you.”

“I’m here,” Bucky says again, pulling back. “I’m here. Let’s get this son of a bitch.”

Steve laughs, though it’s pained. “Yeah,” he replies, touching Bucky’s face, “one last fight. _Together_.”

Bucky nods, smiling, and leaning into the touch. “One last fight.”

When they look back, they find hundreds of people – and rodents and… trees? – behind them, readying for battle. Steve faces Thanos again, having rallied his strength for this final assault.

“Avengers!” He calls, loud and powerful. “Assemble!”

With that, they _run_ and Bucky feels like he did when they were with the Howlies. He feels like they did when they flew through the cold, winter air onto that moving train.

Even with all of these people around them, it’s still Steve and Bucky… until the end of the line.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Steve is in the suit he’ll wear to travel through time and he’s talking to Sam and Bruce about the logistics of the jump. But he’s got a look in his eye that Bucky recognizes. He’s not coming back. Maybe he’ll go back to 1943 and finally get that dance with Peggy, have the life he should have had.

Bucky feels sick to his stomach.

Steve walks over and pulls him into a hug. It’s brief and then Steve turns and starts walking onto the platform. Bucky can see it all: Steve will flash away; they’ll count down but Steve won’t reappear. He’s going to leave Bucky… _forever_.

After everything they’ve been through – all those lost _years_ – and he just can’t let that happen. Not without a fight.

He acts without thinking. For the first time, he doesn’t worry about _what_ _might happen_ if he does.

He doesn’t care anymore.

“Steve,” he says, halting Steve’s steps. He turns back and Bucky feels the blood rush from his face, but he forces himself to speak. “Come back,” he says, repeating the words Steve gave him so long ago. “You… you _have_ to come back to me.”

Steve’s eyes widen a fraction for only a moment but he strides back to Bucky in two steps and they’re _kissing_. Steve’s lips are soft but firm in their attentions. Bucky wraps both arms around Steve’s neck. It’s better than Bucky fantasized, better than he dreamt, and he tries to make it feel that way for Steve too.

But this doesn’t feel like a promise.

It feels like an apology.

It feels like goodbye.

Bucky never really believed that he’d get this. He was never naïve enough to believe that Steve could actually love him back. Not after everything he’s done.

“I’m gonna miss you,” Bucky says, forcing himself not to grip too tightly.

Steve pulls back and looks at him. “It’ll be okay, Buck.”

Steve steps away and walks onto the platform. He ignores the surprised looks from Bruce and Sam, and he keeps his eyes on Bucky.

Then he disappears.

“Five.”

“Four.”

“Three.”

“Two.”

“One.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliff hanger! So sorry. I'm terrible but I really appreciate all of you reading and commenting, letting me know what you think. This fic came out of nowhere so the positive response is very exciting!


	8. Part 8 - I Never Have the Things to Say to Make it All Just Go Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note the updated chapter number. I'm writing an epilogue that will be posted ASAP! <3

 

“Five.”

“Four.”

“Three.”

“Two.”

“One.”

 

There’s nothing there. The platform remains empty, as Bucky knew it would be. He takes a deep breath and walks away, heading toward the lake.

“Where is he?” Sam asks, confused and shaken.

“I don’t know!” Bruce says. “He blew right past his time stamp. He should be here!”

“Well, get him back!” Sam shouts.

“I’m trying,” Bruce replies, typing on the machine.

“Get him the hell back!”

“I _said_ , I’m trying!”

Bucky sits on the bench, staring out at the water. It’s so different from the lake he lives next to in Wakanda. This one is dark and the air coming off of it is cold. He tucks his hands in his jacket pockets, even though it makes no difference.

He feels infinitely colder now than he did before Steve left.

“Oh, thank _God_ ,” Sam says, relief heavy in his voice and Bucky turns around, eyes wide. Steve is there, standing on the platform with bruises and cuts on his face, like he’s been fighting. “You had us worried, man.”

Bruce asks, “What the hell happened? Why’d you miss your jump?”

Bucky’s mouth is hanging open, unable to believe what he’s seeing. “Steve?” He says, louder than necessary and more than a little confused.

Steve turns to him and smiles. “Buck,” he answers, bounding off of the platform and running – running like he did when they were little kids, when they’d only been friends for a few months and everything was new.

Back then, Bucky hadn’t known that what he was feeling was unnatural, was _wrong_ , and he would hold Steve’s hand and hug him all the time. He thinks he even kissed Steve on the lips once. They’d been so young then – maybe, seven.

When they got older, Steve avoided the physical contact until Bucky stopped altogether. He always believed it was because Steve wasn’t queer and could never want Bucky that way.

But, maybe, he was wrong.

When Steve reaches him, there’s no hesitation this time – no pause or question. He just grabs Bucky and kisses him. This one’s different, too; the first time, it was all closed mouths and slow movements. But, now, Steve’s tracing his tongue along Bucky’s lips and releasing a soft moan when Bucky parts them.

He tastes like sweat, blood, and dirt but Bucky doesn’t care. He feels lightheaded but is so afraid that, if he pulls away or opens his eyes, this will have been a dream.

Steve doesn’t seem to have that concern, though, because he slows their kissing and eases back, meeting Bucky’s eyes. “I was always coming back to you, Buck,” he whispers, touching Bucky’s cheek with one hand while his other tangles in Bucky’s hair. “I just got you back.”

“But… you could have… gone back to Peggy,” Bucky says.

Steve frowns. “Why would I do that?”

Bucky’s brows furrow and he asks, “Why would you choose _me_ , Steve? I’m not –”

“I swear to God, Buck, if you say you’re not worth it _one more time_ –”

“I’m _not_ worth it, Steve!” Bucky shouts, pushing him away. “And I’ve never had a single inclination from you that you felt… that you’d want me… like this.” He gestures between them.

Steve nods his head, sighing. “I know. I… I don’t have an excuse, Buck. I tried to _stop_.” He drags his fingers through his filthy hair. “I pushed it down all those years ago. I ignored it and pretended and, then, you _died_.” Tears have welled up in Steve’s eyes. “When we were in Wakanda and you… I thought you might feel something for me but I was scared, Buck.”

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing,” Bucky whispers, shaking his head. “You and Peggy could’ve –”

“I did love Peggy,” Steve interrupts, “and, for a time, I thought maybe Sharon and I might… but I couldn’t keep denying how I… feel about you.” Bucky’s eyes widen. “It got too hard to keep from touching you and… I panicked.” He takes a careful step forward. “I’m sorry.”

Bucky swallows. “And what is that?”

Steve frowns. “What?”

“You said,” Bucky replies, “how you feel about me. What is it… you feel?”

Steve’s face breaks out into a shy smile and Bucky sees the way his cheeks turn pink. “I love you, Buck,” Steve says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know why you think I’d leave you. For the past century, I’ve _been_ choosing you. Over and over and over. I’ve set aside everything for you and I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

Bucky shakes his head. “Out of _duty_ and obligation, maybe even out of guilt.”

Steve’s eyes go wide and he rears back as if he’s been struck. “Is that what you think?”

“Are you going to stand there and say you _don’t_ feel that way?”

“Yes, of course, I do but that isn’t all I feel! You think I chased you across the globe, fought my friends, became a fugitive from the government, and went _back in time_  because of an  _obligation_?”

Bucky’s mouth snaps shut. He walks back to the bench and sits down, staring at the lake again. He wipes the tears off of his face, only having realized that they’re there when the cool air from the water hits his cheeks.

Steve _loves_ him.

After a moment, Steve comes around and sits next to him, leaving a few inches between them, but Bucky feels like any space is too much. He turns and lifts his left hand to touch Steve’s face. It’s so strange. With the arm from Hydra, Bucky was only fed the data he needed to keep from crushing the weapons he held. _This arm_ , though, allows him to experience sensation.

It’s not exact and it’s not perfect, but it’s something he hasn’t had in seventy-five years.

He _feels_ Steve’s skin, his heat. He knows that Steve is real.

“You… love me,” he says, slowly. “You don’t want to leave me.”

Steve shakes his head, smiling. “No, Buck. I _never_ want to be without you again.”

Bucky furrows his brows, thinking. “What about… The Avengers? I’ll go with you if you ask me to, you know I will.”

Steve shakes his head. “I’d never ask you to. I actually… I have another idea.”

With that, Steve stands up and returns to Sam and Bruce, still idling by the platform and trying to make it seems as if they haven’t been watching the scene unfold. Steve steps onto the platform and picks up the shield – _but how_? – and carries it toward them.

“Sam,” he begins, smiling.

Sam glances at the shield and frowns. “So, did something go wrong or… did something go _right_?”

Steve shakes his head. “Well, after I put the stones back, I thought… maybe, I’ll try some of that life Tony was telling me about.”

Sam smiles and looks over at Bucky, standing way back with a shocked expression on his face. “That gonna work out for you?”

Steve follows his look and beams at Bucky. “I think it could be the best decision of my life.”

Sam nods, but then sighs. “I’m happy for you. Truly. Though, I gotta admit, it’s bumming me out I gotta live in a world without Captain America.”

Steve turns back to him. “That reminds me,” he says, lifting the shield to hand over to Sam. “Try it on.”

Sam’s brows furrow. “What? No, Steve, I can’t –” He stammers, glancing back at Bucky who smiles at him and nods his head. Taking a deep breath, Sam reaches for it. He’s got tears in his eyes as he holds it close to him, almost like a hug.

“How does it feel?” Steve asks, smiling and crying a little bit himself.

Sam shakes his head. “Like it’s someone else’s.”

Steve grins and replies, “It isn’t.”

Sam’s trying to hold the tears back, now, but is clearly overcome with the meaning of this moment. “Thank you,” he says in a hoarse voice. “I’ll do my best.”

Steve holds his hand out for Sam to shake and says, “That’s why it’s yours.”

Sam nods his head and glances over at Bucky. “You… wanna tell me about this?” He asks.

Steve follows his look but shakes his head, smiling. “No, I don’t think I will. But you’ll always know where to find us.”

Sam wipes his cheek and nods. “I’m gonna need your advice from time to time.”

“I think that’ll happen less than you’re imagining it will, Sam,” Steve replies, touching Sam’s shoulder. “You’re already a good man and that’s just who you are. The rest will come.”

Sam pulls Steve into a hug, patting his back and sniffling. “Can never be as good a man as you, Steve, but I promise I won’t let you down.”

Steve steps back and replies, “You’ve saved my life, Sam. You’ve saved _the world_. You could _never_ let me down.”

With that, he turns and walks back toward the bench. Bucky’s eyes are wide as he asks, quietly, “Are you _sure_ , Steve?”

“Buck,” he says, taking Bucky’s face in his hands. “I’m gonna spend every day for the rest of my life showing you that I’ll always choose you. _Always_.”

Bucky wants to believe that. He wants it _so badly_. “You… you mean this? Because, I _swear_ , Steve, if you’re fuckin’ with me, I don’t think I can handle it. I’ve lost you too many times and I’d rather let you go than –”

But he doesn’t finish that statement because Steve is kissing him again. This time, it isn’t gentle though. Steve’s got his hands on Bucky’s head and his fingers in his hair, holding him in place.

“When are you going back to Wakanda?” Steve asks and Bucky feels a tightness in his gut. Steve must see it in his face, too, though, because he quickly adds, “I’m going to spend a few days clearing out my place, then I’m going to join you.”

“Steve, you don’t have to,” Bucky says. “You can keep your place and just visit me.”

Steve shakes his head. “I’ve been away from you for five years and seventy before that, Buck. I’m going all in here.” He hesitates for a moment before he adds, “Is that not what you want?”

Bucky shakes his head. “No, no that’s not it at all, Steve.” He tucks his hair back behind his ear and bites his lip.

“Buck,” Steve says, stepping closer and touching Bucky’s cheek. “I’ll be there in a few days.”

Bucky nods. “I’m leaving with Shuri and T’Challa tonight.”

Steve frowns. “Tonight? What time?”

Sighing, Bucky checks his beads. “In thirty minutes.”

“Why so soon?” Steve asks, sadly.

“I figured you weren’t coming back,” Bucky answers, trying to keep his voice neutral. “I told them it would be fine.”

Steve’s face scrunches up and he covers his eyes with his hand, trying to conceal the tears. “I’m so sorry, Buck. I had no idea you thought… I should have been there for you. I should have made it clearer. I didn’t… I didn’t realize what was happening.”

Bucky’s bottom lip trembles with the force of his sadness and he pulls Steve into a hug. “I love you, Steve,” he says. “I love you and you’d better fuckin’ be there in three days or I’m comin’ back for you. I’ll drag your ass back, you hear me?”

Steve’s sobs turn into laughter and he nods. “Yeah, Buck, I hear you.”

Bucky says his goodbyes, even accepting a hug from Sam, and then follows the King and Princess to the ship. As he’s about to board, he hears heavy footfalls and turns to find Steve, racing toward him.

“Steve?” He asks, confused, as Steve gets close.

“Buck,” he says, panting. “I just wanted to –” he says before pulling Bucky into a kiss.

It’s sweet and passionate.

It’s a _promise_.

“I’ll see you in a few days,” he swears.

Bucky smiles and steps backward onto the ship. “See you soon,” he says, waving.

The trip is quick and, what would have been eighteen hours on a commercial flight is closer to three in the King’s private ship. They drop him off at the village and he hugs Shuri tightly before he exits.

“Thank you,” he says. “For everything.”

“You are most welcome, Bucky,” she says, smiling.

“We are available if you ever need anything, my friend,” T’Challa promises and Bucky can’t imagine what he’d done to deserve such a blessing.

He walks through the fields and wooded area until he sees the lake. The hut is in disrepair after five years of monsoons and windstorms, not to mention the _goats_ eating parts of it.

 _The goats_.

He runs, hard and fast, following the shoreline until he reaches the enclosure. The fence is damaged and the barn will have to be fixed, but there’s no sign of the goats. “Oh, no,” he breathes, imagining the worst scenarios.

He rushes into the hut and finds it much as he left it, though dustier and uninhabited. He hurries to the barn and finds the door open. Upon entering, he finds them. All _eight_ of them. Is in the loft, surrounded by Greta, Errol, and Clark; M’Demwe, Onome, and Raki sleep on the floor while Shoon’kwa rests beneath the ramp.

They see him and get up in a rush, bleating excitedly as the sight and hurrying over to him. “Hey, hey,” he says, kneeling as they begin sniffing him. “I’m back, I’m home now.” Their bleats echo inside the barn and he finds himself laughing with tears in his eyes. “Who’s been taking care of you?”

“I have,” a voice says and Bucky turns to find Mohau, smiling at him. “It is good to see you again, Bucky.”

“Mohau!” Bucky exclaims, jumping to his feet and hugging him.

Mohau hugs him back and laughs. “We will come tomorrow to help you repair the barn. I have tried to keep the hut from collapse but only _just_.” He chuckles. “I tried to get the goats to come to my farm but they would not leave their home. They knew you would come back.”

Bucky grins and kneels back down with them. “Of course, I’d come back,” he swears. “Gotta keep you out of trouble.”

Mohau helps Bucky clean up the hut and gives him new blankets to use until his can be washed or replaced. He also gives Bucky clothes, food, and water. He changes quickly since Wakanda is much hotter and he’ll need to stay as cool as he can while he starts the repairs.

He works well into the night, clearing the roof and fixing the damaged parts. He cleans the inside, too, and is finally asleep when the sun rises over the mountains. When he wakes, he washes up and hurries to the city, heading directly into the market where he buys food, clothes, bedding, and other items that he _hopes_ will soon be necessary.

Several people from the village help him carry his purchases back and even stay to help put them away. No matter how long he lives in this country, he imagines that he will never become accustomed to the kindness of the Wakandan people.

He scrubs his bathroom down and bathes, then hurries out to feed the goats and check on them. He notices that Greta’s walking a little strangely and seems pretty fat, though he has no way to know if she’s just overweight or if she’s pregnant. He sleeps in the barn that night, with Errol, Clark, and Greta’s heads on his legs. The others seem unable to rest for longer than a few minutes before they lift their heads to look at him, maybe ensuring that he’s still there.

He’s only grateful that, after five years, they still remember him.

The next day, Mohau brings several villagers, including his _much older_ sons, to help Bucky repair the barn. Bucky’s glad to know that so many survived the battle and the snap.

The work goes far quicker now than it did the first time. Bucky’s sure that it has as much to do with his arm as it does the age and ability of the workers. They add on more to the structure, expanding the loft and adding more to the ground level after Mohau nudges Bucky and says, “Greta is pregnant.”

Bucky sighs, recalling Abena’s labor and delivery. “Let’s hope this goes easier for her than her own birth.”

“Greta will only have two,” Mohau predicts. “It is her first pregnancy, so she may only have one. We will have to wait and see.”

Bucky nods his agreement and they continue working. It’s nearly dinner time when they finish securing the fence again. “Bucky,” Jakarra says, “come have dinner with us.”

“Thank you,” he replies. “I’d love to.”

This time, when Jakarra offers him a glass of his honey wine, Bucky declines. When he arrives back at the hut that night, he falls into his bed and sleeps without dreams.

The following day, he cleans up the hut some more; he washes and hangs the bedding and his dirty clothes, as well as Steve’s clothes that had been left behind. They’re drying in the later morning sun when he hears the distinct sound of a ship flying in. He turns to find a small craft landing on the hill above his home. A moment later, the back opens up and Steve emerges, carrying a bouquet of brightly colored flowers.

Bucky hesitates for a split second before he’s running – he runs like he did on the battlefield; in war-torn France and Germany; on the streets of Brooklyn – and Steve’s running too.

They collide and Bucky leaps for Steve to catch him, wrapping his legs around Steve’s waist. They embrace one another tightly, and Bucky’s crying tears of joy. “You came, you’re here,” he says, over and over.

Steve chuckles. “I couldn’t leave my best guy.”

They remain there for another minute before other footsteps approach and Bucky looks up to find Sam. He slips back to his feet, only just avoiding the bouquet that had fallen into the grass. “How’s it goin’, Bucky?” Sam asks, grinning.

“Uh, good, I’m good,” he replies, glancing at Steve’s blushing face. When he looks back, he notices that Sam is carrying a duffle bag. “Are you planning to stick around in the village?” He asks. “I can make space in my hut.”

“As appealing as that sounds,” Sam says, chuckling, “I’ve got a date with some delicious Wakandan food.” He drops the bag to the ground and says to Steve, “You were so busy carrying the flowers you forgot your bag.”

Steve shakes his head but pulls Sam into a hug, patting his back. “I’ll see you around, Sam.”

Nodding, Sam says, “See you around.”

Bucky grabs the bouquet off the ground, noting the red, orange, and yellow chrysanthemums, while Steve shoulders his bag. They both wave to Sam as he walks away. He returns to the ship and flies off, leaving Steve and Bucky to stare at each other. Bucky’s looked forward to this moment for so long but, now that it’s here, he feels anxious and unsure. He’s lucky, though, because Steve doesn’t seem to feel the same insecurity. His eyes are intense and focused as he steps forward, taking Bucky’s face in his hands.

“I missed you,” he breathes between kisses. “I’ve missed you for _so many years_.”

“Me too,” Bucky whispers, gripping Steve’s hair and deepening the kiss. “So much, doll.”

Steve moans and picks Bucky up again, taking hold of his thighs and lifting him off the ground. Bucky has the maneuver his leg around the duffle bag but it’s a mild inconvenience compared to the joy of feeling Steve against him. He walks them to the hut and Bucky puts the drape across the entrance and wants to kick himself for not installing some sort of actual _door_ , but it’s too late for that now. _Thank God_ , it’s too late.

Steve kneels down on the bed and lays himself over Bucky, kissing him harder and with more desperation. Steve licks and sucks along Bucky’s jaw, down his throat, before leaving a distinct mark on his clavicle. Bucky moans and gasps, then pulls the collar of Steve’s t-shirt with his left hand, but he misjudged the strength and hears the fabric rip apart.

Bucky pulls back  to apologize but stops when he sees the look in Steve’s eyes. _Shit_ , he thinks, _he liked that_.

Steve yanks Bucky’s shirt off and his mouth finds Bucky’s nipple while his hand pinches the other one. “Oh, God,” Bucky moans, unused to the sensations. “L-like that, Steve, yes.”

“Yeah, baby?” Steve rasps. “You like that?”

Without waiting for an answer, Steve sits up and tugs the tie on Bucky’s sarong. He watches Bucky’s face as he does and Bucky smiles at him, lifting his hips in invitation. Steve pulls it away, revealing Bucky’s naked body for the first time.

Steve’s pupils dilate as they rake across the newly exposed skin. “God, you’re so beautiful,” he breathes. “So goddamn perfect.”

Bucky looks away, then, wondering how Steve can find him appealing. How can he be pleased by the sight of Bucky’s mangled shoulder? How can he look happy when all Bucky sees is the pain and torture?

But, maybe, that’s _it_. Steve sees that past and all that Bucky _endured_. He sees that, through it all, Bucky made it here – _now_.

They’re together.

“I love you,” he says, touching Steve’s cheek.

Steve leans into the touch and whispers, “I love you too, Buck,” before lying himself over Bucky’s body. The coarseness of his pants digs into Bucky’s skin but it’s _so good_. He kisses down Bucky’s abdomen, giving gentle nips to his hip bones.

“Ah, _ah_ , Steve,” he moans. “More, please.”

Steve lifts up a bit. “More?” He asks, touching Bucky’s chest. “You’re okay with this?”

“Yes,” Bucky says, immediately. “It’s so good, doll.”

Steve crawls up his body and kisses him then, deep and loving. “You – you want to –?”

“Fuck me,” Bucky interrupts, wrapping his arms around Steve’s neck. “I want it.”

Steve groans, burying his face in Bucky’s neck. “You’re sure?”

“Yes,” Bucky says, unbuttoning Steve’s pants. “Want it. Wanted you for so long.”

Steve makes quick work of his pants and, finally, they’re skin against skin. Steve’s hot and hard, pressing against his thigh, and Bucky loves the way it feels. “I want you so bad, baby.”

Bucky pointed to the basket next to his bed. “There, I got some… I got something.”

Steve smiles at him and leans over, digging around until he locates a small glass jar. “Coconut oil?” He asks, holding it up, and Bucky nods.

“I did some research,” Bucky says.

Steve’s smile turns _filthy_ and Bucky can feel his face and chest heat up in a blush. Steve opens the jar and coats two fingers in the oil, then sets it aside. Glancing at Steve’s dick, Bucky’s sure he’s going to need more than two, but he knows that Steve will listen if he tells him so. He knows that Steve won’t hurt him.

He swallows. “I might need –”

“I know, baby,” Steve interrupts. He rubs Bucky’s chest with his clean hand, soothing him. “Let me see you,” he adds. “I wanna make you feel good.”

Bucky’s breath hitches but he nods and lets his legs fall open. Steve’s eyes dive to his ass right away and he even grabs Bucky’s right knee and hitches it up, exposing and spreading him even more.

“Oh, baby,” Steve purrs, biting his lip. “Gonna eat you out first.”

Bucky’s brows furrow in confusion. He’s never heard that phrase in relation to a man before and wonders if Steve means to suck his dick. But when Steve adjusts himself lower on the bed, he moves right past Bucky’s cock and –

“ _Ah_!” Bucky cries out, throwing his head back as Steve’s tongue circles the sensitive skin of his ass. “Ho – oh, _Jesus_ , Steve!” He gasps and writhes, sure he means to pull away from the sensation but his body’s actually pushing into it.

As Steve continues, he slowly introduces a finger, breaching Bucky’s ass as he pushes his tongue inside at the same time. The sound Bucky releases is low and desperate, but Steve seems to like it because he repeats the action over and over. Finally, his finger is all the way inside and he begins to move it in and out, coating Bucky with the slick oil.

He releases a whine when Steve pulls it out, but the sound morphs into a shocked, breathy moan when he pushes two fingers in. “Oh, God,” he gasps, trying to breathe through the stinging burn and stretch.

It isn’t really _pain_ , though.

Steve looks up at him, then continues to use his mouth as a means of distracting Bucky from the discomfort. He twists his wrist and crooks his fingers and Bucky _howls_. “ _Oh, oh_ , Jesus!” He can’t decide if he wants to pull away or beg for more, so he does neither and lets Steve stroke that spot.

“Right there?” Steve asks through panting breaths. “That it, baby?”

Bucky nods. “Yes, _God_ , please don’t stop, Steve!”

Another moment passes and Steve’s fingers are gone. Bucky gasps, opening his eyes and finds Steve slicking another finger up. “One more, baby,” he rasps and, for the first time, Bucky realizes that this is effecting him just as much as it is Bucky.

He pushes all three fingers in and there is hardly any resistance. Bucky groans, letting his head fall back to the bed, and he has a sudden thought. “Y-you’re pretty good at this,” he comments, keeping his eyes cast away.

Steve stops moving and looks at Bucky’s face. “I suppose I am,” he replies, slowly.

“You’ve… had some practice?” Bucky asks, trying to be subtle but they both know what he’s really trying to say.

“No one you ever need to worry about,” Steve says in his resolute Captain America voice.

Bucky swallows. “No one… now?”

He meets Steve’s eyes, anxiously, and Steve leans over him. “No. There’s no one but you.”

Nodding, Bucky says, “One of the Avengers?”

Steve shakes his head. “No, before. After I woke up but… no, not one of them.” Bucky bites his lip, feeling silly for being jealous that Steve found comfort in someone else. “Buck,” Steve says, touching Bucky’s face gently. “It’s only ever been you for me. I haven’t even looked at anyone like that since I found out you were alive.”

Bucky sighs, leaning into Steve’s hand. “I’ve only ever wanted you. But I thought I could never…”

“I know,” Steve says. “Me too.”

Bucky reaches for Steve and pulls him into a deep, passionate kiss. “Tell me you love me,” he whispers.

“I love you,” Steve says. “I’ve loved you for my whole life, Buck.”

With that, Bucky’s body roars to life and he bears down on Steve’s fingers. “Want you,” he breathes. “Want you now. Please.”

Steve’s eyes are hooded and dark with arousal and he nods. He withdraws his fingers and wipes them off on the bedding. He picks up the oil and slicks his dick up. His eyelids flutter at the touch and Bucky can’t help but groan as he watches.

“Do you – do you want me like this?” He asks, wanting to follow Steve’s lead.

“To start,” Steve replies and pushes Bucky’s legs up again, pressing his knees to his chest.

“O-okay,” Bucky stutters.

Steve meets his eyes. “You okay?” He asks. “We can stop.”

“No!” Bucky almost shouts. “No, just… I’m a little nervous.”

Steve nods. “I’ll go slow. Tell me if you don’t like it.”

“I will,” Bucky promises.

Steve adjusts himself and lines up; Bucky feels the blunt head of Steve’s dick press against his ass. It slips a couple of times before it finally breaches him. Bucky hisses at the burn and Steve halts his movement, giving Bucky a chance to adjust.

“It’s okay, Buck,” he says. “Take your time.”

Bucky nods, taking a deep breath. “Okay, it’s good. Keep going.”

Steve pushes more, groaning as he’s finally seated inside Bucky. “Oh, God, yes,” he breathes, throwing his head back.

Bucky takes a few shuddering breaths and he’s sure that he’s going to shake apart as Steve holds perfectly still. He leans forward, putting more weight on his hands, pressing Bucky’s knees against his chest harder. Keeping his eyes on Bucky the entire time, Steve slowly pulls out, though not even half-way, before he thrusts back in.

Bucky’s eyes roll back into his head and he groans as Steve’s dick slides against that spot inside him. He hadn’t thought it would be this good. He hadn’t known it could be this way.

The heat of Steve’s skin; the hard, but yielding pressure of his dick inside Bucky; the way Steve’s breaths have changed – all of it is _too good_.

He goes easy for a bit, keeping his thrusts slow and precise, but Bucky wants more. He lifts his hips to meet Steve and they both moan. “How you do you feel, baby?” Steve asks, his breath hitching.

“Feel full,” Bucky answers. “It’s good, Steve.”

Steve leans over, capturing Bucky’s lips in a kiss as his hips begin to move a bit faster. Bucky can only hold onto Steve’s shoulders as he thrusts harder and faster and it feels like electricity in his blood. He knows he’s crying out as each snap of Steve’s hips hits that spot inside him and he can’t keep the sounds locked inside.

His body is bent in half as Steve holds him in this position, pounding into his body with all of his strength. Bucky wonders if Steve had to hold himself back with his other lovers. He wonders if Steve is happy to know he can lose himself in Bucky this way.

So, he asks.

“Oh, _oh_ , fuck, yes, Bucky,” Steve moans and then he’s swelling up and then Bucky feels hot liquid spilling over and he realizes Steve’s _coming_.

He’s coming because of Bucky.

There’s a moment where Bucky doesn’t quite know what to do, so he waits and bites his lip. Then Steve is pulling out of him and sitting back on his knees. Without preamble, he thrusts two fingers back inside of Bucky.

He gasps, but it quickly turns into a moan as Steve crooks his fingers and begins thrusting hard and fast, aiming for the spot that has Bucky seeing _stars_.

“ _Steve_ ,” he groans and wraps his hand around his aching cock, stroking it in time with Steve’s thrusts.

“That’s right, baby,” Steve rasps. “You gonna come?”

Bucky nods, desperate and needy. His fist moves faster and faster and he knows it’s going to be so good, so perfect with Steve inside him like this, but he wishes it could be the other way. He doesn’t have a chance to think much about that now, though, because he feels the coiling in his abdomen and then _he’s coming_ and he cries out.

“Oh, baby,” Steve murmurs, letting his fingers slip free. “You’re so good.”

Then Steve shifts closer and Bucky looks down to find that Steve is hard again already. Bucky groans, knowing what’s coming. Steve pulls him up, though, and helps him spin around. Bucky imagines Steve wants him on his hands and knees until Steve wraps his arms around Bucky’s chest and pulls him back so he’s kneeling over Steve’s lap.

Again, Steve slips his dick inside Bucky and begins pounding him – harder and faster than the first time, but Bucky knows he can take it. The sensations – so soon after his orgasm – trick his body into believing it’s still coming and he’s shaking from overstimulation but it’s so good.

Steve holds him and kisses him – a softness to his touch that is not mirrored in his thrusting, but Bucky wants it all.

“Tell me you love me,” he moans.

“I love you,” Steve breathes, pulling Bucky tighter against him. “I love you so much, Buck. Gonna show you every day.”

“Yes,” Bucky gasps, feeling the coiling return to his abdomen, though he has no idea when he got hard again. “Oh, fuck, I’m gonna come,” he groans and Steve grabs hold of his dick, stroking it.

“I wanna feel you, Buck,” Steve rasps. “Come for me.”

It’s all a race to the finish then as Bucky’s body clenches up and he feels his orgasm _right there_ and Steve’s moaning too. “I’m – I’m –” Bucky tries to say but can’t because he’s shaking and he’s sure there are tears in his eyes as he comes again, harder than before.

Steve doesn’t stop but he moans the filthiest sound right in Bucky’s ear. “ _Christ_ , you feel good, oh, my God.”

“Come in me, Steve,” he says and Steve nods.

“You’re _mine_ ,” he growls, thrusting harder and faster.

“Yours,” Bucky moans. “Just yours.”

Steve groans and, again, Bucky feels him swelling up, warming Bucky from the inside out. “Gonna come, Buck,” he says and Bucky nods.

He chokes out a sob, holding Bucky tight and slamming home, trying to press their bodies as close together as they can get. They remain there, kneeling together, panting and twitching. After a few moments, Steve pulls out and helps Bucky to lie on his side.

“You okay?” Steve asks, situating himself so they’re facing one another.

Bucky looks at him and smirks. “Yeah, you could say that.” He feels the wetness beneath him and knows that they’re both filthy. “Bath?” He suggests and Steve nods.

“Yeah, that, uh – that’ll be good.”

He helps Bucky stand up and they make their way to the bathroom. Bucky waits, ignoring the wetness dripping down his thighs while Steve starts the water in the tub. Once the water reaches a good level, Steve gets in and holds his hand out for Bucky to join him.

Lying with his back to Steve’s chest, Bucky relaxes immediately in the warm water. He feels a little sore but nothing he hasn’t handled in the past. It’s nowhere near what his body is capable of dealing with.

“How long are you staying?” Bucky asks, looking up at Steve.

“Buck… I’m not leaving,” he says.

Bucky frowns. “You mean… for a while?”

Steve shakes his head. “No, I’m _staying_.”

“Steve, you don’t have to do that,” Bucky replies, lying back against Steve’s chest. “I know you won’t be content, sitting here and not out there, fighting bullies.”

“Sam and the team got it covered,” he argues.

“But, Steve –”

“Buck, I’m where I want to be,” Steve interrupts, adjusting them so Bucky looks up at him. “Is this what _you_ want?”

Bucky nods, thinking back to what Steve had said so long ago. _You want me here? Ask me to stay._

“Stay,” he breathes. “Please, Steve. Stay with me.”

Steve smiles, bright and happy, and presses a kiss to Bucky’s head. “‘Til the end of the line.”


	9. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is. The end of this story. TT-TT  
> Thanks, everyone! Your comments and kudos have been much appreciated. I hope you come back for my next work! (and my next and my next)
> 
> Special thanks to dixons_mama for all of your help and encouragement! You're an amazing friend. <3

 

Bucky lays back against Steve’s chest. He can feel the heat of the sunshine on his skin and sees it winking through the leaves of the tree they lay under. Steve’s arms remain ever tight around him, clutching to him in waking as he often does in sleep.

Neither of them sleeps well. Maybe they never will, but every time Bucky wakes, shaking and drenched in sweat – still feeling the burning of the electrodes – Steve holds him. He whispers promises to him, promises that Bucky believes now. Promises that Bucky gives back to Steve if he wakes up, screaming and crying, having watched Bucky or Tony or Natasha die _all over again_. 

But even through all of it – all of the loss and pain, the torture and death – Steve came back to Bucky. They found each other again.

“I’ll always find you,” Steve whispers, as if he could hear Bucky’s thoughts, but the reality is that Steve thinks the same things.

“I’m never going anywhere ever again,” he swears, turning his head and seeking out Steve’s lips for a kiss.

His beard has grown longer and Bucky loves the way it feels against his face and _everywhere else_. It’s been nearly a year since the snap was undone and Steve retired to Wakanda. It was rough going at first, as Bucky knew it would be. Steve was often wracked with guilt, hearing news of the New Avengers’ battles. “ _I’m just sitting here, Buck!_ ” He kept saying, over and over, until word arrived that everyone was safe.

It was after those moments that Steve sunk into a depression that Bucky could do nothing about. Finally, he told Steve to leave. “ _You aren’t happy here with me, so just fucking go!_ ”

And he did… but he came back later that day, carrying flowers and apologizing over and over and over. After that, Steve let go of the past, of the duty and expectation – he let go of Captain America.

For Bucky.

“We should get out of the sun,” Steve suggests, pressing a kiss to Bucky’s hair.

Bucky shakes his head. “A few more minutes. I love the heat.”

“Me, too,” Steve replies. They’d both known cold all too well for far too long. “You wanna go for a swim?” Bucky smiles, bright and happy but Steve adds, “With clothes on this time, Buck. There’s kids around.”

He pouts. “You’re no fun. Everyone else swims naked.”

Steve’s grip tightens incrementally and he whispers, huskily, “I can’t stand having anyone else’s eyes on you, Buck.”

Bucky loves that – the possessive way that Steve looks at him and touches him. He’s pretty embarrassed that it took him so long to see it. Before the war, Steve always hated it when Bucky went out, but Bucky only thought he was envious. During the war, he kept Bucky with him - or at least within eyesight at all times - but Bucky imagined that Steve was simply worried about him.

To finally know that Steve wanted him then, too, is a heady knowledge. When Bucky’s memories returned, one of the first things to come back to him was his desire for Steve, but to imagine that Steve felt the same way makes him feel like a fool.

“Could’ve been doin’ this all along, doll,” he murmurs, shifting around to see Steve’s face. There’s a blush high on his cheeks as he looks at Bucky’s lips, then his eyes. “But I’m glad we got here. Finally.”

“I am too, Buck,” Steve replies, leaning down and capturing Bucky’s mouth in a hot kiss.

He knows it could go on and on if he doesn’t interrupt it, so Bucky says, “Wouldn’t want the kids to see us, would ya?”

Steve smirks and Bucky bets he’s wondering if Bucky means the goats or the villagers, but either way, he slips his arms beneath Bucky’s knees and his back, and then stands up. “Wouldn’t want that one bit,” Steve replies, carrying Bucky into their hut and shutting the door they built.

 

_fin_


End file.
